


A Kingly Gift

by Middle_Earth_Mama



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - No Smaug, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Drunken Flirting, Explicit Language, F/M, Family Fluff, Gold Sickness (Tolkien), Hand Jobs, Hurt Bilbo Baggins, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, King Thorin, M/M, Masterbation, Mutual Masturbation, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Thorin, Slow Build Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Slow Burn, Smitten Thorin, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2019-10-18 12:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 115,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Middle_Earth_Mama/pseuds/Middle_Earth_Mama
Summary: Smaug never came. Thror was overtaken by gold sickness, and his son Thrain banished to his death.What happens when Thorin has to take over a broken kingdom? What happens when an unconventional gift, in the form of one Bilbo Baggins, is left him by his grandfather's horrid soldiers?Updates will be slow, more tags to be added.





	1. Chapter 1

The mountain stood rigid against the stark black sky. The moon shone bright and full from behind it, casting the stone's shadow across the land. It gave the kingdom of Erebor an ominous look, which quite befit the mood of the returning prince. 

Prince Thorin had been in Dale with his grandfather's advisors over the past week, writing out a new treaty for stone King Bard was requesting. The negotiations had been... frustrating to say the least. His grandfather's advisors picking apart every line of the agreement, much to everyone's dismay. King Bard had never tried to take advantage of the dwarves of Erebor before, in fact, he very much respected his mountain dwelling neighbors. Thorin knew the offers King Bard had made were completely reasonable, but his grandfather had become quite paranoid over the last few years. Gold-sickness had taken root in the dwarf king.

King Thror was a malevolent ruler. His thirst for riches and power left a very sour taste in Prince Thorin's mouth. No king should lord over his subjects as his grandfather did. King Thror often found pleasure in the torment of others. He had made a hobby of bending them to his will, in every manner possible. His soldiers and advisors were known to do the same. Prisoners of war, or anybody that took their fancy, really. The subjects of King Thror were constantly on edge, hoping not to fall victim to the tyrant that was their king. If King Thror were in a dark mood, he often ordered subjects sent to the dungeons or worse for looking at him wrong, or for simply being in his way as he passed through the mountain halls. He and his soldiers were also known to kidnap or purchase slaves from other kingdoms, though nobody could necessarily prove this theory. Such conquests were never truly witnessed by anyone other than those closest to the king, but many speculated on how the king kept such secrets. 

Prince Thorin could not be sure any of the rumors about his grandfathers conquests were true. He had never seen any solid proof or evidence and chalked it all up to the dwarves of the mountain assuming the worst of their mad king. Though it could not be denied that King Thror was not well. Thorin had never quite forgiven him after what he had done to his father, Thrain. King Thror had sent him on a doomed mission to retake Moria. All knew that Thrain could not succeed, overrun as the kingdom was with orcs. King Thror knew this as well, yet told his son not to return unless he was successful. No word had been heard from Prince Thrain for over five years now. He was assumed dead. 

Thorin was wracked with grief over the loss of his father. He hated the King for what he had done. But he remained in Erebor nonetheless, biding his time as the old king withered away in the treasury. Thorin could not leave Erebor leaderless. He knew it would take time, but his eventual rule would bring peace once again between Erebor and the surrounding kingdoms. There was much unnecessary discord with the elves and men now. 

Thorin had always been a more logical, even tempered dwarf, much to his grandfather's dismay. King Thror had worked hard to sway Prince Thorin's more honorable nature, hoping to shape him into the perfect heir. Thorin's only choice was to behave as his grandfather wished, eliciting fear from all around him, posturing and threatening any who got too near. Prince Thorin was no fool. He knew if his grandfather thought him wanting, he would not hesitate to send him in Thrain's doomed footsteps. He was sure to bark angrily at any who were too close, especially if the king was near. He had sent a few innocent dwarves to the dungeons, only at his grandfathers insistence, so to appease the king and keep his claim to the throne. 

The king was frail now, his greed eating away at any decency left in him. He had taken more and more to wandering in the treasury, spending less time among his court and advisors each day. King Thror was slowly starving, body and soul. It was only a matter of time.

Thorin stayed his pony in the shadow of the mountain, breathing in the last fresh air he would get for a few days. The air in the mountain had grown stale, a counterpoint to the warm memories of his youth, when the mountain was full of life and luster. Thorin loved mulling over thoughts of a more peaceful time, pretending it had never become so dark. He would much rather stay out in the open, his memories soothing the burden of pacifying his mad grandfather. Thorin sighed. He could linger no longer. Unbearable though his life under the mountain had become, he was ready for a hot bath, a hot meal, and his own soft mattress. 

Thorin turned to his personal guard captain, Dwalin, who gave him a nod of understanding. Nobody knew Thorin as well as his personal guard. The captain could feel the veil of heaviness tighten it's grip on the prince the closer they got to home, his shoulders tensing and the crease of his brow deepening with each step the pony took towards the mountain. Nonetheless, Thorin spurred his pony on, leading his men across the great bridge and under the stone archway, into the darkness of the mountain.

Once inside the gates, Prince Thorin was met by the stable hand, who helped Thorin down and led his pony as well as those of his personal guard, off to be fed and brushed. The king's advisors dismounted and hurried off to their own lodgings to settle in for the night. Thorin was loosening the clasps on his riding gauntlets when a rapid staccato of heavy boot falls echoed through the otherwise empty chamber. A red faced messenger approached the prince. He bowed sloppily, chest heaving after having obviously run halfway across the kingdom. “Your majesty, the king has fallen ill. He collapsed in the throne room earlier today. The healers await you in the king's chambers.” Thorin nodded as he finished removing his gauntlets. “Thank you. I will go to him at once.” 

Thorin strode off at a steady pace, flanked by his four guards. There was not much activity in the mountain at this hour, though a few merchants still lingered here and there. By the look of it, the gossip of the king's illness was already spreading. Thorin wondered if there were witnesses to his collapse, or if it happened upon returning from treasury, after taking stock of the only things on this earth his grandfather still loved. 

Thorin's footsteps slowed as he approached the king's chambers. He took a deep, steadying breath as he prepared himself for whatever was awaiting him on the other side of the door. He glanced once over at Dwalin, who clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder and gave him a grave nod. Finally, Thorin pinched his eyes closed and pushed open the door. 

The kings of old had always taken up residence in the royal wing, along with kin or very close friends. When gold sickness began to take him, King Thror ordered an entire new wing built, meant only for the king. In his eyes, the king was separate and superior to all others, kin included.  
Another of his grandfather's preferences for Thorin to loath. He could not help the sneer of distaste that overcame his features as he walked through the ostentatious solid gold door frame. The kings quarters were decorated almost entirely in gold. Even the majority of the mantel was made from the offending metal.  
Thorin despised it. He directed his gaze from the gaudy surroundings to the overlarge bed in the center of the room. King Thror looked quite shriveled. His complexion had gone gray, and his face was gaunt, cheeks sunken in. Thorin took in his grandfather's state and barely contained the sob that tried to escape him. Much as his grandfather had disappointed him in the last decade, he knew deep down was the grandfather he remembered as a dwarfling.  
Deep down, Thror was a good soul. 

It took a few moments for King Thror to notice Thorin in his hazy view. He reached a shaky, cold hand out to his beloved grandson. 

“Thorin, my boy,” he began in a dry, raspy voice, “I am so glad you've come.”  
Thorin closed his eyes as he took his grandfather's hand. “Of course I came.”  
“My time is almost up, I'm afraid,” Thror continued with a weak smile.  
Thorin could only nod weakly.  
“I'm so sorry Thorin,” Thror pressed on, “I can only hope your father's soul found peace, and that I may meet him in Mahal's Hall to make amends. If he will ever forgive me.” Thorin tried in vain to blink back the tears that began to pool in the corners of his stinging eyes.  
“I can imagine he will,” Thorin's voice cracked as he responded.  
“But,” Thror took a deep rattled inhale, “can you?”

Thorin held his breath so to keep his sobs in check as he nodded his head vigorously at the king. “Of course I can. I do.” 

Thror nodded once at this, careful not to jostle himself, and laid back, closing his eyes softly. The lines on his face slackened just a little, as though a great weight had been lifted. 

“Your majesty, with your leave I will ready the king for bed,” the healer next to the bedside told Thorin as she arranged the pillows at Thror's head and offered him water, which he declined. 

“Thank you,” Thorin responded. He rose from the bedside and fought his instinct to run out of the room, instead keeping his steps as slow and measured as he could manage. He was eager to find solitude, to begin grieving the madman who was once a wonderful grandfather, a loving father, and a fair king. 

Thorin's guards took up pace behind him silently, able to read the prince's mood and needs without them being voiced. Dwalin glanced at him, but Thorin was intent on getting back to his chambers as quickly as possible. 

They reached the royal quarters within minutes. Thorin threw open the door to the sitting room, his guards closing the door quietly and taking up watch just outside. He strode over to the fireplace and collapsed into the embrace of the deep red couch before it. He placed his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, finally letting his sorrow flow. He stayed like that for a few minutes before he heard the quiet footsteps approaching him. 

Thorin scrubbed his face with his palms and sniffled. “Dis. Sister, I hope I did not wake you,” he attempted to sound strong and unaffected, but of course his sister could see right through him.  
“Long live the king,” Dis said solemnly as she sat down next to him. She placed her hand on his shoulder in comfort. “Thorin, I know you are struggling with this. I too will miss him when he is gone.”  
“I am more affected at my disappointment in myself.”  
“And why do you feel so disappointed? Thorin, you will be a wonderful king. Or is there something you have done recently to deserve such scorn from yourself?”  
“When I went to our grandfather just now, I tried to focus on all that he once was. Even so, I could not stop myself from feeling that which makes me unworthy now.”  
He looked up at his sister's patient face, unable to hold eye contact.  
“Relief.” 

Dis nodded in understanding and the two sat quietly, watching the flames in the hearth dance.

The king did not last the night. By sunrise the next morning, the whole kingdom was aware of his passing. While the halls of Erebor were draped in black, there were many who did not mourn the loss of the king. 

The mood in the mountain was anxious. It was palpable in every corridor. Thorin felt he was choking on it. Every dwarf and dwarrowdam seemed wary and jumpy when in his presence. He knew what they were all thinking. Would he walk in the footsteps of King Thror? Or could he possibly be even worse? 

Thorin knew this was the conversation being had amongst all as he made his way to his chambers after a long day in the throne room. Every group of dwarves he passed stopped speaking abruptly as he approached. He knew he was the subject of discussion. And, judging by the faces of all those he crossed, the tenor of conversation was... unflattering. 

Finally, Thorin reached his chambers. He was met at the door by the former royal advisor, Balin. Balin had been his grandfather's advisor before..... his illness. Thorin always rather liked Balin, and he had instructed Thorin in many of his lessons when he was younger. Now Balin approached him with an uncomfortable look about him. Thorin met his eye with a slight smile, hoping to put the old advisor at ease.

“Balin, my friend, I am quite hopeful you will accept your old position back as Advisor to the King after the coronation,” Thorin declared, then met Balin with a standard dwarven head-butt to further show his affection. 

Balin smiled back halfheartedly. “Thank you, your majesty. But first, I have another matter to bring to your attention. Your grandfather's troops have just returned from the Blue Mountains. They were most disheartened to hear of the king's passing.”

“I'm glad the armies have returned.”  
“That isn't all, sire. The captain said his men took a captive. They intended to gift it to the king, therefore....”  
Thorin clasped a hand to his eyes and rubbed them impatiently. “Therefore, there is a very frightened prisoner in my bedchamber, awaiting her doom?”  
“His, your majesty.”

Thorin sighed. “Dangerous?”  
“No, no I don't believe so. Terrified. Probably injured. But I do not think he is dangerous.”  
“Thank you, dear friend.”  
Balin gave Thorin a bow and quickly took his leave. 

Dwalin, ever present at Thorin's back, cleared his throat to gain the new king's attention. “If you would like, your majesty, I could go gather this.... captive, and release him. Or relocate him until it can be decided what the best course of action will be?”  
“Thank you Dwalin, but I would like to assess the captive myself first, to see what course would be most appropriate.”  
Dwalin bowed out of the way, letting Thorin through.


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin quickly made his way through the sitting room to the bedchamber doors at the other side. He placed his hand against the rough stone of the door and leaned his ear into it, listening intently to see if his guest was awake. His sensitive dwarven hearing could pick out uneven, ragged breaths heaving around terrified, shaky sobs. He sighed deeply and slowly pushed the door open.

Where was this “gift”? Thorin's eyes swept across his room, dimly lit by the warm glow of the hearth. His eyes picked around the oak desk at the left, covered in stacks of papers he still needed to sort, the open washroom door in the corner where a faint flickering light of a candle danced in the blackness. He scanned his eyes over the low burning fire in the large hearth directly across from him, and finally, the cozy four poster against the right wall. 

There. 

Someone was huddled at the head of his bed, half hidden behind the black marble headboard. Firelight glistened off the smooth surface, and danced in the terrified eyes of the being hiding in the shadows. 

Thorin strode across the room, settling himself in the red armchair before the fire, hoping not to appear intimidating. He kept his sharp eyes on the creature by his bed, taking in what he could see in the dim light.

The being was smaller than a dwarf, perhaps a head shorter and very much less broad. He lacked a beard, and, oddly enough, any kind of foot covering. His feet were quite large, compared to the size of the creature, and covered on top by a thatch of curly light hair. 

“Please, do not fear me,” Thorin addressed his guest, “No harm will come to you by my hand.”  
His words had no effect, though he did not really expect them to in the first place.  
“Come, please, sit by the fire and speak with me a while.”

The creature kept his head down and hesitantly approached the fire. As he got closer, the state of him became more apparent. He was filthy, his clothes torn in places, and he moved with a limp, favoring his right foot. Thorin noticed the hands were bound behind the creatures back. There was a cut above one eye, and bruises on the throat. Hand shaped bruises.

Thorin forced his curious gaze higher, settling it on a strangely bare face. The creature did not look up, instead keeping his eyes on his feet in front of him.  
“Tell me, what should I call you? And, what manner of creature are you? I have never seen your kind before.” Thorin asked gently.  
“B-B-Bilbo.” Bilbo cleared his throat. “Bilbo Baggins. I am a hobbit.”

Thorin had heard of the Shire folk from traveling dwarves from the Blue Mountains. From what he understood, they were a peaceful race, focusing on the comforts in life and the art of growing things. This only alarmed Thorin further, as from what he had heard, hobbits were known to be quite round, in which case this particular one was grossly underweight.

Thorin sighed and stood from his chair, the sudden movement causing Bilbo to jump and flinch, and he cowered as Thorin drew near. The hobbit's terror pained the dwarf, and he stopped and held his hands aloft, palms out, as he took a step back.

“Please, Bilbo,” Bilbo looked up beneath his lashes timidly at the softness in Thorin's voice.  
“Won't you let me unbind you?” Thorin nearly whispered, not wanting to startle the poor hobbit further. Bilbo nodded gratefully and let a little of the tension leave his shoulders.  
“Thank you,” the hobbit whispered in a quavering voice.

Thorin reached down to untie the ropes binding Bilbo's wrist, and as their hands brushed, he felt it. 

The Spark. A tingling traveled through his hand and up his arm. It shocked through him like lightening, burning almost painfully as it shot straight to his chest. His vision blurred and his heart began to race, his senses dulling until all he could feel was heat. It lasted only a moment, then an all consuming warmth radiated from his chest out through the rest of his body like the fires of a forge. He suddenly felt complete, peaceful even. His instincts took over and he immediately felt a pull and overwhelming need to protect, to love, and to trust this random stranger in his room. 

Thorin's mother had so often told him stories of The Spark and dwarves finding their Ones. They were his favorite bedtime stories, and he still knew every word by heart. The Spark was something all dwarves revered, it was said to be the touch of Mahal himself. 

Destiny and fate had to align just right, for a dwarf to meet their perfect match. Then a touch was all it took, and the two dwarves would bond for life. His parents had been lucky enough to experience it, though not all dwarves were so blessed. Most went through life alone, choosing to focus on their craft instead of search for a soul mate. But sometimes, there was no choice in the matter. Sometimes fate had its own plans. 

As Thorin's heartbeat slowed and his vision came back to him, he looked cautiously up at the hobbit's face, but it appeared the small creature had not felt anything. He thought perhaps it would be best if he did not mention it at the moment, and so he shook his head, blinking rapidly as he returned his attention to the hobbit's hands. 

Bilbo sighed as Thorin unbound his wrists, scraped raw from being tied all those long months of travel. The hobbit rubbed at them gently, flinching at the sharp sting left by the rope. 

“You must be hungry. I'll send for food,” Thorin said quickly. He stalking off toward the door, taking the moment to settle his nerves at the unexpected developments the night had brought. He found his hands were shaking, and he couldn't quite think straight. He stood in the empty sitting room and put his hands over his face, taking a few steadying breaths. 

What in the name of Durin's beard was he supposed to do now? He couldn't very well declare his intention to take a hobbit as his consort before his grandfather was even put to rest. Not to mention, the hobbit in question did not exactly seem very stable at the moment, and a strange dwarf declaring his undying love for him would probably not be the best thing for his mental state. And how exactly had Mahal destined a hobbit to a dwarf king? 

Thorin took a few more deep breaths and decided to put the matter from his mind. For now, he would do what he could for Bilbo, and the first thing was to get some food into that hobbit's belly.

* * * * *

Bilbo sat on the rug near the fireplace, feeling quite spoiled at being unbound for the moment. Though he knew it would more likely than not be short lived. This could not be the king the soldiers had spoke of. He knew whenever the king decided to arrive, he would most probably find himself bound again, forced to endure what he was assured would be far worse than anything he had experienced with the soldiers. 

Thorin returned and sat down heavily, eying the hobbit sitting on the rug. The poor being was obviously tense, hugging his knees to his chest. His arms and bare shins were covered in cuts and bruises. His ankles showed signs of having been bound at some point as well. 

Thorin watched as Bilbo chewed his lip nervously, staring straight ahead.  
“You know, there is another perfectly good chair, right here,” Thorin said softly, gesturing to the seat next to him.

Bilbo looked at Thorin, then to the chair, sure this had to be a trick.  
“Oh, no, I'm quite alright here.”  
He decided it would be safest to stay right where he was. The soldiers he had traveled with were quite firm on making sure he sat separate from them, he was certain this dwarf would be no different. 

Thorin looked his guest over again, making Bilbo squirm a bit uncomfortably. This dwarf was not like the others he had met. He had assumed them all brutes, but this one was quite calm and accommodating. His eyes were appraising, but not cold. Intelligent and wary, but there was a warmth in them that other dwarves he had dealt with were lacking. They were an enchanting shade of sapphire blue, flecked with icy gray and curtained by absurdly long black lashes. 

Bilbo looked from those assessing eyes down the hooked nose and high cheekbones. He could make out the chiseled jawline beneath a short, well groomed beard. A long mane of ebony waves threaded with silver hung around the dwarf's face, catching the firelight as it flickered and danced over the shining locks. 

Bilbo's gaze continued to the dwarf's frame, broad and strong, taut muscles stretched beneath a simple white tunic. A tunic that revealed just a taste of the dwarf's muscled chest, covered by a thick pelt of black hair. Bilbo swallowed as he looked nervously back up at the dwarf's face.  
This dwarf could snap him in two.

Thorin quirked an eyebrow at Bilbo, concerned with the apprehension in the hobbit's eyes.  
“Is something wrong, Master Baggins?”  
Bilbo blushed and quickly averted his gaze. “N-no.” 

There was a knock at the door, again causing Bilbo to jump violently. Thorin's frown deepened at the hobbits reaction. He stood up slowly and deliberately, eying the hobbit warily, then strode across the room to answer the door. A round jovial faced dwarf was revealed, carrying a tray laden with more food than Bilbo had seen in months. 

“Ah, Bombur. Thank you, my friend,” Thorin greeted the red haired dwarf.  
Bombur bowed his head briefly before addressing the king. “Of course you are most welcome, sire. Please let me know if there is anything else you need.” 

Thorin nodded his head and smiled. “I assure you, this will more than suffice Bombur. Thank you.”

With that, the round dwarf left and Thorin brought the tray across the room to the table before the hearth and sat back down in the comfortable armchair. The dwarf prepared the hobbit a plate, filling it with bread, mutton, wine, and cheeses. Bilbo timidly took the offered meal with shaking hands, and ate everything Thorin offered him. When his plate was empty, Thorin took it and filled it up again. Bilbo took it gratefully, beside himself with the relief of getting to eat his fill.

They ate in silence, both lost in their own musings. Bilbo worried for his fate at the hands of the king, and Thorin appraised the hobbit and took mental note of all the injuries he could see. He was already feeling the effects of the spark. His protective nature was determined to seek retribution for every hurt that had been inflicted on Bilbo. He tried to keep the feeling at bay, but he knew the battle had been lost before it had begun. This was His One, sent to him by his maker. 

A hobbit. 

Thorin reeled at the thought as he watched the injured hobbit eat yet another plate of cheese and bread. Such a timid creature, most certainly made of softer stuff than a dwarf, but with an appetite fierce enough to rival Bombur himself, it would seem. Thorin grinned a bit as the hobbit picked crumbs from his plate, savoring every little morsel.

After a full belly and a couple refills of wine, Bilbo was beginning to relax for the first time in longer than he cared to think about.

“So,” Bilbo began, emboldened by drink, “what is he really like, this king of yours?”  
Thorin found himself amused at the question. “What is it you've been told of our king?” he countered.  
“Oh,” Bilbo fidgeted uncomfortably, “well, I was assured to expect.... I was told I would.... not be well treated, once he took possession of me.” Bilbo looked down at the rug as he finished his statement. “It is said that most slaves given to the king do not make it more than a year.”

Thorin grimaced at this statement, the suspicions of his grandfathers habits confirmed. He would ensure such horrid things never occurred in his kingdom again. And he would start by seeking justice for this hobbit. He shook such grim thoughts from his mind and returned his attention to Bilbo.

“Thorin.”  
Bilbo looked up questioningly. “I'm sorry, what was that?”  
“My name, Master Baggins, is Thorin Oakenshield.”  
“Oh. And, and how should I address you? Will Master Oakenshield suffice?” Bilbo asked nervously.  
“Just Thorin, will be fine. Unless of course, Your Majesty or Your Highness is more comfortable for you. Some feel ill at ease addressing the King by his first name.”

Bilbo let out a little squeak.  
“You are the king?” he asked in a trembling voice.  
Thorin frowned at the fear in the hobbit's eyes. “Yes. Or so, I will be. You will never have to fear the monster of a king you had been promised to. He- he died. Last night, as it were.”  
Bilbo fidgeted a bit nervously and would not meet Thorin's eyes as he nodded slowly. “Oh. So. So I suppose that means I belong to you now?”

Thorin shook his head. “Fear not, Master Baggins, you need not belong to anybody. I do not keep prisoners, or slaves for that matter. I do not find joy in the suffering of others as my grandfather before me. I will find you a place to sleep tonight, and then I will find suitable lodgings for you. Until such a time as you are well enough to go where you will.” Thorin felt ill even suggesting the hobbit leave the mountain.

Bilbo's eyes bulged a bit comically as he tried to work his mouth. He felt panic grip at him anew at the thought of being alone somewhere in a mountain full of dwarves.  
“Please, may I just stay here for now?” he asked in a small voice.  
“Here? In my chambers?”

Bilbo blushed a bit at the way it sounded, then he nodded slightly as he found his voice. “Yes. Please, I am..... I would not feel safe... they would come find me, I know they would. The ones who brought me here. Please, do not send me away. I do not expect you to protect me, you owe me nothing, I am in fact in your debt for releasing me, but-”  
“Bilbo, stop,” Thorin commanded. 

Bilbo looked down again, eyes closed, looking as though he wished the floor would swallow him up.  
Thorin eyed the hobbit sadly, feeling a sense of responsibility for the horrors his grandfather caused.  
“You can stay here, Master Baggins, I do not mind. Though I do wonder, what did my grandfather's soldiers do to you, to make you so wary? What did they say, to make you fear them so?”

Bilbo swallowed and shook his head as his face paled. “They were not kind.”

This was all Bilbo said on the matter, and Thorin did not want to press him. He had obviously been through quite an ordeal already, and was exhausted and haunted by his time with dwarves up to that point. 

“Very well, Master Baggins, you may sleep in my bed. I will take the lounge.”  
Bilbo shook his head violently. “No, no I could not possibly-”  
“You can, and you will.”

Bilbo would not ignore a direct order. The past year had made him quite compliant. So, he got up and limped over to the comfortable looking bed piled with pillows and throws. He looked back at Thorin over his shoulder.  
“Are you sure? I really do hate to think I'm taking your bed from you.”

“You are not taking, Master Baggins. I am giving,” Thorin reassured him again. Bilbo nodded, his eyes stinging a bit as they filled in relief. He quickly turned away from the king as the tears spilled over, releasing the overflow of tension of a long, painful journey. 

A bed. He would, for the first time since his capture almost a year ago, be sleeping in a bed. He should be disgusted with the state of his clothing and hair before climbing into the bed of royalty, but he was too exhausted to care. Fear has a way of draining everything from your soul. He pulled back the blanket and clambered up onto the soft mattress, collapsing with a sigh. 

“I'm sorry, Your Majesty, for the loss of your grandfather,” the hobbit whispered.  
The corner of Thorin's lips lifted in a fleeting smile. “Thank you, Master Baggins.”

Thorin watched the hobbit's body relax as he began to snore softly. He decided now would be as good a time as any to find the soldiers responsible for Bilbo's wounds and demonstrate just how unlike his grandfather he was. He quietly opened his door to find Dwalin and his second in command, Gloin, standing guard at either side of his bedroom door. 

Thorin nodded to both his guards in greeting.  
“Dwalin, I would like my grandfather's troops who have returned from the Ered Luin venture gathered in the throne room at once.”  
Dwalin immediately strode off to so as he was bid. 

“Gloin, stay here. Nobody but myself, you, or Dwalin goes in without my direct order. If my guest wishes to leave this room, stay with him and send a messenger to notify me at once, no matter what I am doing. You are personally responsible for his safety.” 

Gloin nodded his understanding and retook his post before the door as Thorin strode across the sitting room and out into the hall, making his way to the throne room. 

Thorin scrubbed his hand over his face tiredly. How was he going to ensure justice, and make an example of the guilty party, while also showing something his grandfather would never dole out. 

Mercy. 

The prince could not make a show of force that could in any way be compared to his grandfather's. But his subjects needed to understand, torture and slavery would no longer be something to fear from their king, nor would it be tolerated. He knew what he had to do, though he was concerned with the potential backlash. He composed his face and pulled his shoulders back as he reached the throne room and strode inside with his chin held high. 

The room went silent as Thorin entered, an impressive thing, for though it was nearly midnight, the room was packed with dwarves. All present stood as the prince made his way to the front of the room, bowing their heads in respect. Thorin eyed his grandfather's throne, but thought better of sitting on it, so soon after the king's passing. He turned to face his subjects, all looking expectantly up at him, wondering what was about to happen. 

Thror's soldiers did not disappoint. They may have been cruel and ill-tempered, but they were well trained. As a unit, the troops assembled on either side of the center aisle raised a right hand to their hearts in solute to their king. Thorin nodded his head at them, and they dropped their hands in unison.

The prince took a deep breath, then decided to get right to the point.  
“I have summoned you, soldiers of Erebor, to ask a question. Who among you is responsible for the captive in my chambers?”

All dwarves present looked around in shock and began to murmur amongst themselves. One of the captains at the front of the ranks stepped forward and, after bowing to Thorin, spoke. “Your highness, may I respectfully inquire as to what you mean by “responsible?”

Thorin looked back at the captain with fire in his eyes.  
“I mean, Captain, whose idea was it to take him prisoner? Who captured him? And who was charged with his wellbeing on the journey from his lands?” 

Thorin's eyes narrowed and his voice lowered dangerously as he eyed the ranks.  
“But more importantly, who is responsible for every mark on his body? Who is responsible for the untold horrors he has obviously endured? Who. Is. Responsible.”

The soldiers gave each other sidelong glances, all refusing to say a word for fear of the consequences. 

“Let it be known, this entire army will be sentenced to exile if nobody has come forth with useful information by the day of my coronation. It will be my first official decree as king that every prisoner taken, of war or otherwise, will be treated with the utmost respect, and delivered to the king completely unharmed, and unspoiled. Needless capture of any being will be strictly forbidden. 

As for the state of our current guest, any of those who come forth and give information that may aid in the apprehending of those responsible for his injuries, you will be cleared of charges. To any who are guilty, and come to surrender, you will be shown mercy. To any who are guilty, and do not come forward...... if there are witnesses to your crimes, you will pay dearly.” 

With that, Thorin strode out of the throne room, leaving behind the shock and uproar of his grandfather's most loyal soldiers. 

Balin caught up with Thorin shortly after the doors closed. His face was red with the pace he had to keep to stay in step with the angry king, his white beard blustering here and there as he tried to slow Thorin to a more sane pace. 

“Your majesty, King Thror's army-”  
“Must know who they now serve, and that this violence and despicable behavior will no longer be tolerated.”  
“Yes, Your Highness, but retaliation-”  
“Will be dealt with if it comes. I have the utmost faith in Dwalin. He will assure my safety from any attempted vengeance.” Thorin shook his head in disgust.  
“Those soldiers. Getting off on the torture of any weaker than they. I will not have it, Balin.” 

The white haired dwarf nodded in understanding. “Yes, Thorin. I simply worry for your well-being.”

Thorin stopped abruptly, turning to face his old mentor. He place a hand on Balin's shoulder and brought their foreheads together in a gentle manner. Balin closed his eyes and smiled.

“Thank you, Balin. You always were one to look out for me.”  
Thorin pulled back and looked at his friend more seriously.  
“I will be wanting to meet with you tomorrow to discuss this matter and decide what fate should be dealt to any found guilty.” 

Balin nodded and with a short bow, swept himself off to try to catch some sleep.

Thorin resumed his quick pace, frowning to himself as he headed for his chambers. There was so much to be done. How would he earn the trust of a kingdom who had come to loathe the line of Durin? How would he handle these horrible dwarves who were guilty of torture, but loyal to his grandfather? And by Mahal's beard, what was he to do about the broken hobbit who was to be his One?

Thorin was yanked from his pondering by approaching footsteps. He looked up and saw his youngest nephew barreling down the hall towards him.  
“Uncle! Uncle! Gloin has sent for you. He said it was urgent,” the young dwarf gasped out between breaths.  
“Thank you, Kili.” Thorin nodded at his nephew and the two ran back the way Kili had come, racing down the hall towards the royal chambers. They entered the sitting room, and Thorin saw that his bedroom door was wide open. Gloin was nowhere to be seen and there was a pleading voice sobbing from inside his chambers. 

“Kili, go,” Thorin's voice was soft but firm, and his nephew pulled an annoyed face, but turned in the direction of his own chambers.

Thorin ran across the room and through his doorway. He stopped short at the sight before him. Gloin was standing next to his bed, murmuring soft words of comfort. His brows were furrowed in obvious concern and his hands were hovering over the mattress, as though he were contemplating whether or not he should touch the small form writhing on Thorin's bed. 

The hobbit was clearly suffering from a horrible nightmare. His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, dirty curls matted to his brow. He was thrashing and sobbing loudly, pleading for release from an unseen horror. 

Thorin nodded to Gloin, who swiftly and gratefully reclaimed his post at Thorin's door, closing it with a soft click as he exited.

Thorin placed a hand softly on Bilbo's forehead, gently sliding the curls from clammy skin. At first, Bilbo jumped at the contact. Then, his thrashing began to slow a little as he leaned his face in to the comforting touch. Thorin stroked Bilbo's cheek softly, trying to ease him in to a more peaceful slumber. He gently ran his hand over Bilbo's curls again, ignoring the dirt and blood caked there. Bilbo sighed in his sleep, his body finally going still and his breathing returned to normal. 

As soon as Thorin was sure the hobbit had calmed, he took his place on the lounge near the fire. Tomorrow, there was much work to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Tell me what you think! I love to have your feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments!  
> And without further ado, Chapter 3  
> Enjoy!

The first thing Thorin noticed was the light on his face. The sun was shining through the skylight in his room, warming his skin. It made the back of his eyelids glow a burning red, preventing sleep from reclaiming him. Reluctantly, he opened his heavy lids and squinted at the golden light shining down on him. He shook his head and rolled out of the sun's reach, rubbing the sleep from his eyes groggily. 

How was it the light was hitting his face? There wasn't a skylight over his bed. 

Then he remembered the previous night, the unexpected guest and even more unexpected spark. And now, the presence in his chamber of an injured and terrified hobbit.

Right. 

Thorin began scanning his room for said hobbit, and was not all too surprised to find him huddled on the rug in front of the fire. 

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Bilbo greeted Thorin softly.  
“Mm. Morning,” Thorin could hardly squeeze out between yawns. He stretched his arms out above his head and flung his feet onto the floor. 

“Are you hungry?” Thorin asked, his voice husky and thick with sleep.  
Bilbo looked at him, surprised this generosity would continue.  
“Yes, I am a bit.”  
Thorin nodded. “I will send for Bombur.”  
He left the room for a brief moment, then returned, placing himself in the same chair he had been sitting in the night before.

Bilbo eyed the dwarf, unsure of what to expect.  
“Bilbo,” Thorin began softly, “I know you are wary of dwarves, but I think it would be a good idea to have your wounds addressed. We have a very good healer who I would trust to tend to you, if you would allow it.”

Bilbo frowned a bit and looked into the fire. He shook the unease that had come over him at the thought of being around another dwarf. Then his brow furrowed further. 

A healer the king would trust? Why exactly was Thorin so concerned? The hobbit was a bit flattered at the thought of a king putting such importance on his comfort and care.

“Alright. But... is there.... any way I might... bathe first?” Bilbo requested hesitantly, afraid of pushing his luck.  
Thorin smiled at the hobbit. “Of course. I will ready the tub.”

The dwarf disappeared through a door across the room, and Bilbo sat uncertainly, fidgeting with nerves as he waited for Thorin to return. He liked Thorin, he decided. Somehow, Bilbo just knew that he could trust the dwarf. And he was not one to cast aside his intuition.

Bilbo's head snapped up as Thorin leaned out of the washroom door. He struggled to his feet when the dwarf signaled for him to follow. 

Bilbo's breath caught in wonder as he entered the room. A large tub sank in to the floor at the far wall, filling with steaming water. He thought surely at least five dwarves could fit comfortably in there. On the left stood a large sink, and a black marble bench next to the tub. 

The floor was made of stone, polished to a shine, and three of the walls were set with shiny black tiles of some material Bilbo did not recognize. The wall to the right was a solid mirror from corner to corner, ceiling to floor. Bilbo took it all in with a sense of awe. Then his heart plummeted when he caught his clear reflection for the first time since he'd been taken from the Shire.

Bilbo was looking quite thin, his clothing hanging limply from his frame, and dark circles stained the flesh beneath his eyes. He was covered in dirt from top to bottom, the color of his hair was even hidden beneath the filth. The cut above his eye was more gruesome than he had thought, and his ankles and wrists looked red and angry. The only thing Bilbo was grateful for, was the fact that the dirt hid much of the bruising. The hobbit quickly averted his gaze as his eyes filled with tears at the poor state of himself.

Thorin shifted uncomfortably, scrambling to find something to say to console the hobbit. He settled for resting a gentle hand on Bilbo's shoulder, then remembered too late the hobbit would probably not be put at ease by the contact. Bilbo flinched, squeezing his eyes shut as though expecting a blow, and Thorin dropped his hand quickly back to his side. 

“I am sorry Bilbo. I did not mean to frighten you.”  
Bilbo shook himself and gave Thorin an unconvincing smile. “No harm done.”  
Thorin tried to smile back. “I will fetch Oin. He will need to see you before you redress. I will also find you something to wear. Please, call for me if you need anything.”  
Without another word, Thorin turned off the water and swept out of the room, leaving Bilbo to himself.

Bilbo sank painfully to his knees. He buried his face in his hands and finally allowed himself to feel everything he had held in during his captivity. He grieved the loss of his home, the mistreatment he had been subjected to, and the indignity of it all. He mourned his life in the Shire, one he could no longer go back to, and he feared his future from this point. Would he ever find a home again? What did the dwarves want of him now? Would he be held prisoner? Or forced into servitude, working for the kingdom he now found himself in? And what became of his captors? 

Bilbo's heart froze as he thought of those cruel dwarves. They could be plotting to recapture him, deciding to take him back into their custody. Since he had escaped the fate he had been meant for.

No, that could not happen.

The hobbit rubbed at his eyes and stood, sniffling a bit and wiping his nose on a filthy tattered sleeve. It would not do to worry about things he had no control over. At this point, the best he could do was follow the king's orders. Thorin had been good to him, and Bilbo felt a bit guilty for assuming the king would let such horror befall him. He walked over to the tub and quickly undressed, keeping his back to his reflection so as not to catch a glimpse of what he was sure would send him reeling into a fit of emotion again. 

Bilbo sat on the edge of the tub and slowly submerged himself into the hot water, his vast array of bruises and scrapes making themselves known. The open wounds stung and tingled unpleasantly as he settled in up to his neck. Though, the hot water did wonders for his tense muscles. His shoulders relaxed and he eased into a more reclined position, letting his body float just a bit. Then, he dropped beneath the water, scrubbing at his matted curls and pulling his fingers through them until they felt smooth again. 

With a gasp he broke the surface, feeling more like the gentle hobbit he was after removing the grime. He looked down at the water, watching the dirt and blood swirl in its depths. 

Despite its now filthy state, the water smelled quite pleasant, earthy and soothing. Sandalwood, maybe? Bilbo took a deep inhale of the calming scent and sighed, losing himself into nothingness for a few moments before he was startled by a knock on the door.

“Master Baggins?” Thorin's voice carried through the stone, slightly muffled. “The healer has arrived, as has breakfast. Please, join us when you are ready.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and swallowed around the lump in his throat. He was quite nervous to face an unfamiliar dwarf, but he pulled himself from the tub and grabbed the towel from the bench. He quickly rubbed water droplets from his skin and dried his hair until it at least stopped dripping over the floor. 

As Bilbo wrapped the towel around his body, careful to cover as much of himself as possible, he again caught his reflection out of the corner of his eye, but he refused to look for long. 

At least his hair was light again. He raised a hand to tousle his curls, satisfied to feel the long forgotten softness. He slowly limped across the floor and opened the door with shaky, hesitant hands. 

Thorin heard the washroom door creak open, and he looked up and smiled at the timid hobbit. Bilbo was peering cautiously around the door, and Thorin nodded encouragingly. Bilbo slowly stepped out, eying the gray haired dwarf that now sat across from Thorin with great distrust.

“Master Baggins, this is the healer Oin. Oin, Master Baggins.”  
The old dwarf looked at the hobbit curiously, his intense stare made Bilbo feel a bit uneasy. Though he pushed himself to approach the pair, aware that the old healers eyes held no contempt in their gaze. 

Thorin was speechless at the sight of the hobbit. Beneath that layer of grit and grime, Bilbo was quite fair to look at. Dirt had not suited him well at all. 

Though his shoulders and arms still held evidence of his maltreatment, Bilbo's skin looked soft and beautiful, sun-kissed flesh glowing in the light shining through the ceiling. His hair, as it turned out, was not the muddy brown color it had appeared before, but a honeyed blond streaked with hints bronze and gold. It curled messily in a most pleasant way. Thorin couldn't help but stare at the charming looking hobbit as Bilbo stood awkwardly on the rug before the hearth.

“Erm... Your Majesty?” Bilbo's voice was measured, but laced with amusement.  
Thorin shook his head and looked up at the hobbit's face, which he was fascinated to see was blushing crimson.  
“Is something wrong?” Bilbo seemed unsure and fearful again, and Thorin wanted to kick himself for scaring the hobbit once more.

Oin cleared his throat and gave Thorin a pointed look. “May I speak to you, Your Highness. Privately?”  
Thorin nodded and followed the healer out of the room, leaving Bilbo looking quite lost in the vast room. 

Thorin closed the door behind him, then turned around, stopping abruptly at Oin's proximity as the healer assessed him with his hands on his hips.

“What happened to him?” Oin inquired.  
“Thror's soldiers. I do not know the specifics,” Thorin answered levelly.

“And what was that display all about?” Oin demanded.  
Thorin sighed and ran an agitated hand through his hair. “It was nothing. Can we please see to Master Baggin's injuries? Before they worsen?”  
The healer narrowed his eyes at the king, leaning closer as if the answer were written on Thorin's pupils. 

“Thorin...” Oin pressed, reluctant to let the matter go. He knew there wasn't much choice at this point, given that Thorin had already spun on his heel and marched back into his bed chambers.

“Alright then, Master Baggins, let's have a look at ya,” Oin grumbled as he followed Thorin back across the room. He motioned for Bilbo to have a seat in the other chair, and was pleased when the hobbit finally took it. 

Bilbo sat on the cushion, hugging his towel around himself and looking far too tense. Thorin frowned in dismay as Oin knelt down to inspect the hobbit's feet.

“Such thick soles, I've never seen anything like it,” the healer was mumbling as he looked at Bilbo's left foot. The hobbit flinched as Oin picked up the right one, and the dwarf immediately gentled his touch. 

“Where does it hurt, lad?” he asked kindly.  
Bilbo grimaced. “The bottom.”

Oin lifted the foot up to eye level, carefully smoothing his fingertips over the tender area. He hummed and tutted to himself, then gently laid the foot to rest against the rug.  
“I will get a poultice put together after I leave for that.”

Bilbo nodded softly as Oin continued inspecting his wounds. Thorin gave the healer a questioning look, but Oin just shook his head and went back to his work.

Bilbo was becoming more and more uncomfortable as the healer worked up his legs, wincing and flinching as Oin poked and prodded each bruise and carefully smoothed a salve over each cut and scratch. The cut above his eye was particularly sensitive, and Bilbo yelped out loud when Oin applied his salve to it.

“Alright lad, let me have a look at your back and chest,” Oin requested easily.  
Bilbo went a bit rigid, his eyes widening as he glanced from Thorin to Oin anxiously.  
“What is it, Bilbo?” Thorin asked the frightened hobbit.  
“It's just that... I.....” Bilbo shut his eyes and mouth and shook his head firmly. 

Oin and Thorin exchanged worried looks, terribly concerned with the hobbits reaction.  
“Bilbo, I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, but I must insist you allow Oin to look at your back at least. From the stains on your shirt I know there are serious wounds to be tended there.”

Bilbo seemed to calm at this and he rearranged his towel so that he could still hold it against his chest, careful not to allow any flesh below his shoulders to be revealed as he shifted.

Oin looked at Thorin questioningly, and the king nodded in response. The healer sighed a bit and walked around the chair to have a look. Thorin snapped his gaze up as Oin let out a gasp. The healer gave the king a worried look and shook his head lightly, then returned his focus to the hobbit before him. Thorin grimly watched the healer's face as emotions flashed in the old dwarfs eyes. Anger. Pity. Anger again, and finally, sorrow. 

Oin did not say another word as he tended to the hobbits back. He pulled his bag up onto the table next to the chair and set to work. 

It took every bit of the kings restraint to remain where he was. Much as he longed to see what had caused the healer so much distress, he did not wish to frighten Bilbo, or make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. Instead, as the hobbit hissed in discomfort yet again, he decided to attempt to distract him.

“So, Master Baggins, what is it like in the Shire? I have heard tales of the area and its inhabitants, but I have never seen it for myself.”  
Bilbo sighed. “Green. Peaceful. Alive and full of joy.”  
Thorin felt a bit guilty at the longing in the hobbit's voice. “I am sure you miss it,” he mumbled.

Bilbo shrugged. “I miss the trees. I miss my smial, and my garden.”  
“And family? Surely you have kin to miss as well.”  
Bilbo shook his head. “No. My parents passed on long ago. And I have no relatives who would be caught dead even speaking to me. That's how I ended up here.”

Thorin tried to hide his eagerness at getting information regarding Bilbo's capture. He leaned forward a bit, but kept his voice even and low. “Oh?”  
Bilbo nodded sadly. “I was alone, smoking quietly on the bench in my garden. Then the dwarves came. The hobbits they had been drinking with stopped to call out a few rude words, as they usually did when there was too much ale involved. The dwarves ran with it. They captured me after the hobbits left.”

Thorin closed his eyes, pinching them shut at the thought of dwarrow soldiers forcibly capturing a civilian hobbit. It made him physically angry to imagine. Bilbo looked up warily at the king's face, watching the dwarf's jaw clench and unclench as he struggled to hold his composure. 

Thorin's eyes flew open as the hobbit emitted a sharp gasp as Oin bandaged the last of the wounds on his back. The sound only further inflamed Thorin's temper, and he jumped to his feet, vibrating with palpable fury.

“I must meet with my advisor. I will send my nephews to keep you company. If you require anything, please send one of them to notify me.”

Bilbo looked at Thorin worriedly, nervous at the large dwarfs obvious irritation. His eyes snapped from Thorin to Oin, terror creeping in to his gaze.  
Thorin sighed and let his shoulders drop, releasing some of his tension so as to put the hobbit at ease.  
“Do not fear, Master Baggins. My nephews are skilled fighters, and princes no less, no dwarf will dare try to harm you while I'm gone.”

Bilbo relaxed just a little and nodded stiffly at Thorin, who shot him what he hoped was a reassuring smile that quickly turned into a scowl as he glanced at the hobbit's back. Bandages covered nearly the entire expanse of his skin, and Thorin knew when he returned, Bilbo would be covered in wrappings. “Oin, come find me when you are finished and my nephews have arrived.” 

Then the dwarf was gone, leaving Bilbo alone with the healer. He wasn't too frightened, in spite of having just met Oin. The hobbit felt fairly safe with the old healer. 

“I have cleaned and covered those wounds, but I will need to wrap them. I'll need you to breathe deeply as I work, so I don't wrap them too tightly. Can't have you short of breath!” With that, the healer reached into his bag and pulled out several feet of white fabric and held the end out to the hobbit. 

“I will need you to hold this end securely to your chest,” Oin urged Bilbo to take up the end of the wrappings, but the hobbit hesitated and looked again quite uncomfortable. He looked quite tense as the healer walked around the chair to his front.

“I need to wrap your wounds well, or infection will set in. What is it that has you so nervous?” Oin asked kindly.

Bilbo fidgeted, blushing lightly as he struggled to find the words to explain. “I.... There are.... oh bother it.” He floundered a bit, then decided to start at the beginning. “What do you know of hobbits, Master Oin?” he finally asked.

The old healer furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment. “Honestly lad, not much. I know ye like your food. Several meals a day. You only love once, much like dwarves. And you like to grow things. That's the extent of my knowledge really.”

Bilbo sighed. He had thought as much. “Every hobbit is born with a mark. A small mark over our heart that indicates who our soul mate is to be. Of course, it is not usually clear who the mark represents until later in life.”  
Oin looked at the hobbit curiously. “How very interesting. For example?”

“Oh! Well.... my mother's mark was a tiny bumble bee. It didn't make much sense, until the day she met my father. She was sat under a tree, reading a book when he came running through the field screaming and flailing his hands wildly through the air. She chased him down and tackled him,” Bilbo grinned at the thought, the scene he had always imagined of his mother bringing his father to the ground in the dirt warming him. “He had been stung by bees. Several of them. She dragged him off to her smial and treated the stings herself.”  
The healer smiled in amusement at the sweet tale. “And your father's mark?”

“His was a daisy. She had them woven into her hair that day. They were married within the month.” Bilbo's smile grew as he remembered his parents. Their love and devotion to each other. 

Oin chuckled lightly. “That's very interesting. I didn't know hobbits have a One.”  
“A One?”  
“A soul mate. Someone they are destined to spend their lives with.”  
“Oh! Yes. And are dwarves much the same?”  
“In a way. Many don't ever find their One. But for those who do, a bond is formed almost immediately. We are a passionate people, we take our time with the details, but love happens quite quickly.”

“How do you know when you've met your One?” Bilbo asked.  
“The Spark. Only those who have experienced it can explain it well. It's a warm feeling at the touch of skin. It shoots through you like lightening, sharp and hot, right to your heart. Then it warms you, leaving behind a pleasant sensation of completeness.”  
Bilbo smiled. “I must assume you have experienced it, to be able to describe it in such detail.”  
“Aye. My wife and I have been married for eighty years now,” the healer said fondly. “Now tell me, are hobbits very secret about their marks? Is that why you are hesitant to uncover your chest?”

“No, no not exactly.” Bilbo sighed again. “Most hobbits.... their marks are of plants, flowers and the like. Or animals or something.... soft and natural. Mine is..... well.... not.” 

Oin's brow furrowed as he tried to put the puzzle together. “And does your mark embarrass you because of this?”

Bilbo blushed again and nodded.

Oin thought for a moment. He was quite curious as to what kind of mark this hobbit bore that he was ashamed to let it be seen, but he was a healer. As such, his first priority was his charges health and comfort.

“Take the end of the wrappings and hold them over your mark. I will not look until it is covered. Then I can bind your wounds and you can keep your mark private.”

Bilbo visibly relaxed at this and smiled gratefully at the kind old dwarf. He took the end of the binding and, when he was sure the healer wasn't looking, put it over his mark. As soon as he was sure the mark was covered, Oin began wrapping the fabric around Bilbo's torso. He stopped when Bilbo flinched horribly as rough hands brushed the hobbit's side. 

“Let's take a look,” Oin said as he gently pulled Bilbo's arm up. Bilbo grimaced and hissed as the dwarf's hands poked at him. “Bruised ribs, I'd wager. Don't seem broken though. Lucky, that.”

Bilbo huffed. “Yea. Lucky.”

They both looked up as voices approached the bedchamber door. 

“Clearly, little brother, mine was closer!”  
“Oh no, that was mine! You always do this, Fi! You always mix them up and try to confuse me!” A dark haired dwarf kicked the door open in a huff, looking angrily at a blond dwarf Bilbo assumed was his brother.

“It's not my fault you're so easy to confuse! And anyway, it's YOU that is always trying to mix things up. You just can't handle the fact that I always win!” the blond retorted.

“Lads?” Oin gave the two a pointed look, and the young dwarves turned their attention to the healer. “What are you on about this time?”

The blond one sighed heavily. “Kili here can't stand to lose, so he's trying to convince me that it was I who lost.”  
“No no no, it is you who can't be seen losing to your younger brother, so you are the one lying!”

Oin could feel the argument beginning to heat up anew, and he quickly strode over and placed himself between the two, pushing them apart. “That is quite enough boys, we have company.”

“Oh right!” Kili exclaimed, approaching the small form in the chair. “You must be Mister Boggins!” He and his brother came to stand before the hobbit.

“Fili,”  
“And Kili,”  
“At your service,” the two finished together with a small bow.

Bilbo smiled in spite of himself at the obvious youth of the two dwarves. The blond must have been the eldest, with a beard already grown in quite fully and braids in his mustache. The braids were secured with silver beads at the end, as were the braids in his hair. There were two that fell over the dwarf's shoulders, much like that of his uncles, and Bilbo wondered if there was significance in them. 

The dark haired dwarf was a tad shorter than his brother, and his beard was barely scruff. His hair was wild and unkempt, sticking up in places, though Bilbo thought the look was almost as charming as the dwarves themselves.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Kili ran out of the room abruptly, returning moments later with his arms full of clothing. “Uncle asked me to find you something to wear,” he said as he heaped the mountain of clothes on Thorin's chair. “You can have whatever you like! They're a little snug on me now,” Kili finished cheerfully.

Bilbo smiled at the princes, then looked back at the daunting pile. “We'll leave you to dress. Then why don't you join us in the sitting room?” Fili suggested. The hobbit nodded lightly, then watched as Kili took up the breakfast tray and the three dwarves exited the room. 

Bilbo quickly rose from his chair and searched for the most simple clothing in the bunch. He found a plain blue tunic, and was pleased to notice it was the same shade as Thorin's eyes. 

Bilbo felt a bit awkward as he realized he had been gifted the princes underthings, but he thought he should be grateful he wouldn't have to make due with his own worn pair. He quickly pulled on fresh underclothes and tunic and began searching for trousers. The hobbit was disappointed to note that the majority of the trousers were leather, a counterpoint to the softer fabrics of the Shire. He picked the softest pair he could find and pulled them carefully over his large feet. 

The clothing was big on the hobbit, not that Bilbo was ungrateful. He had expected it would be a little baggy, what with dwarves being a bit broader than hobbits, particularly around the shoulders and chest. But, Bilbo thought, they would fit well enough once he had gained a little of his proper weight back. He moved slowly across the room, took in a deep breath, and pushed open the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first OC! I hope he is easy to dislike.  
> Enjoy!

The royal sitting room was more vast than Bilbo remembered, having been in a state of pain and terror the last time he had been hauled through it. It almost looked like a kind of wide hallway, the entrance straight across from the bedroom he currently stood outside of. A long blue rug set the path from Thorin's door to the main entrance, causing the room to appear even longer. Bilbo could see the dark polished floor beneath it was flecked with gold.

The ceiling was high, much higher than Bilbo thought could possibly be necessary, and the room was decorated in shades of gray and blue. There was a polished black granite table to the left, high backed chairs stood at each end and the sides were flanked with long benches. An ornate chandelier hung above it, candle light shimmering through its dangling pale blue stones. 

Four heavy doors were spaced out on the wall behind the table, leading to what Bilbo assumed were more bed chambers. To the right, a plush couch and two armchairs sat before a very large hearth, lit to a golden glow by a merrily crackling fire. At either side of the mantle were two large bookcases, each shelf packed with books of all shapes and sizes.

Fili and Kili were on the floor in front of the fire, scuffling half heartedly and laughing as they tussled. Bilbo smiled and began to make his way over to them, when he noticed another figure sitting on the couch. He froze as the dwarf turned and leveled him with a calculating stare. Bilbo's breath caught in his chest and he felt as though he may vomit as the unfamiliar dwarf assessed him. 

“Please, come closer, Master Baggins.”  
The dwarf's voice was warm and feminine, and Bilbo realized this was in fact a dwarrowdam who sat before him. The princes stopped their wrestling match as they noticed the hobbit and invited him to join them. He hesitantly worked his way toward them, keeping his eye on the unfamiliar dwarrowdam as he went.

“Master Baggins, this is my mother, Lady Dis,” Fili announced from the floor proudly as Bilbo shyly approached.  
Once he could see her clearly, Bilbo was surprised to note that Dis was stunningly beautiful. 

Not that he expected her to be unattractive, but hobbits as a rule weren't usually fond of facial hair, particularly on females, but Dis wore it well. Her hair was as dark as Thorin's, but much thicker, and pushed back by a golden headband set with emeralds. The glistening stones set off her green eyes, and Bilbo noted that Fili's were the exact same shape and color. 

Like her brothers, Dis's hair was braided from either side of the back of her neck over each shoulder, fastened by clasps that matched Fili's. Her beard was much shorter than a male dwarf's, and the angles of her face were softer. She appeared to be shorter than Thorin, and her build was slender, her curves reminiscent of most females of other races. 

Bilbo fought to find words as his tongue moved worthlessly in his nervousness. Dis took pity, seeing the hobbit struggle, and greeted him first.

“Hello Master Baggins.”  
Bilbo managed a hesitant smile and a small bow in response, still unable to speak or swallow properly. Dis narrowed her eyes a bit, but continued to smile at him warmly. 

Bilbo was relieved when the princes signaled for him to sit, and he noticed they had set the breakfast tray on the floor between them. 

“Come eat with us, Master Boggins! You'll have to fill out a bit to fit into those clothes properly!” Kili said cheerfully with a mouth full of bread. Fili wrinkled his nose and brushed the resulting crumbs from his lap. 

Bilbo gladly accepted the offer, settling himself on the rug close to the fire, Fili and Kili repositioning to sit at either side of him. The hobbit felt quite comfortable next to the princes. There was an innocence to them that made them impossible for Bilbo to fear. 

“So, Master Baggins, would you tell us of your homeland?” Dis asked gently.  
Bilbo lowered his gaze and scrambled a moment.  
“Oh... well... what would you like to know?”

“What of your people? I have heard of hobbits, but I know little about them.”

Bilbo knit his brow and finished chewing as he decided where to start. 

“Hobbits are simple creatures. We enjoy our comforts, good food and parties and pipe weed and the like. We keep to ourselves, avoiding the big folk, and only interact sparingly with the dwarves that pass through from time to time. We enjoy gossiping and sewing and dancing... growing things....” Bilbo's voice tapered off.

“You sound like a quite charming people,” Dis said, the smile on her face evident in her voice.  
“I am quite sorry you were dragged away as you were.”  
She reached out and took Bilbo's hand softly.  
“I promise you, most dwarves have more honor than those who wronged you.”

Bilbo was surprised to find that her touch did not startle him, and her words did not sadden him. He instead found the gesture comforting, and her sincerity filled him with hope. He looked up into her bright intelligent eyes and gave her a true smile, her returning one nearly blinded him with radiance. She removed her hand and sat back, crossing her ankles as she made herself comfortable. 

“Is there anything you would like to know about Erebor? Or anything else you would like to ask? Since you will be with us for some time,” She asked, still smiling at him warmly.  
“Oh! Well, yes, yes I would love to know more.”  
“And what would you like to know, my dear hobbit?”

Bilbo put a hand to his chin, contemplating what he should ask first. There were so many things he longed to know, but he wasn't sure where to start. 

“How many dwarves reside in the mountain?” he finally asked.  
“Oh, thousands!” Kili answered excitedly.  
Fili leveled him with an exasperated look.  
“Tens of thousands, easily Ki.”

Bilbo cringed, then began to look uncomfortable again.  
“How many dwarves are allowed in these chambers?” he asked timidly.

Dis threw a scolding look at her sons. She seemed to sense his distress, and her tone gentled as she answered him. 

“The boys and I have chambers off of this main room.”  
She gestured vaguely to the doors on the other side of the room.  
“Other than the royal family, Balin, Dwalin, and Gloin are the only dwarves allowed to enter without express permission, and even they will not enter without being invited unless it is an emergency.

Balin is a dear friend of ours. He is very kind and wise, you need not fear him. Dwalin is Thorin's closest friend, he and Gloin are personal royal guards. There are ten royal guards in total, but only Dwalin and Gloin are allowed access to these rooms, as they are the most trusted in the ranks. There are two guards outside that door at all times.”

Bilbo nodded and seemed to relax just a little. 

“And- and am I to be... to continue staying here? Or will I be sent away?”  
Bilbo was getting flustered again, and more and more panicked as he continued. His hands were shaking now, and he had to stop for a moment to calm himself. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists in his lap, reminding himself to breathe.  
“I guess what I am asking is, how long am I to stay in Erebor?”

“I have not spoken to Thorin on this matter, but I am sure you are welcome to leave if it pleases you,” Dis answered him gently.  
“And if I do not feel inclined to leave, do you know if I will be welcome to remain in the royal chambers?”

Dis tilted her head lightly and gave him a reassuring smile.  
“I promise you, Thorin would not order you to stay somewhere you would not be comfortable. Especially if you felt unsafe. Do not worry yourself Master Baggins. If there is ever anything you need, please feel free to say so. We would love for you to see our people for who they really are, and we want you to feel safe and welcome here.”

Bilbo's eyes were suddenly a bit misty at the heartfelt declaration. 

Dis suddenly looked concerned. “Does this upset you?”

“No, no My Lady. I simply did not expect...”  
He fumbled for a moment, trying to find a way to explain.  
“I am terribly sorry, but my opinion of dwarves had been quite horrible until just recently. I did not look to find such warmth in your race until I met Thorin, and now you and your sons have been so kind to me. I do not know how to thank you.”

“You have been through quite an ordeal, Master Baggins. And I assure you, my brother will seek justice on your behalf. The majority of dwarves are far more dignified than those who captured you. As a people, we do not make a habit of mistreating others.”

“I am glad to know it, My Lady.” The two shared a warm smile.  
“Now, if the princes would be so kind, I would love to hear of Erebor's mines and great throne room. I have heard rumor that they are quite grand, though I am not up for exploring just yet.” 

Fili and Kili jumped at the request, and they began excitedly describing each and every hall and chamber in exquisite detail, one adding something here and there that the other forgot. 

The hobbit smiled as he listened to the brothers, entertained with their enthusiasm. Perhaps, with time, Bilbo could come to be happy in the mountain, happier than he had ever been in the Shire. 

 

* * * * *

Thorin sat rigidly at the round stone table. He rubbed his face in agitation, then pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Balin was at his side, looking ever the part of calm collected advisor. Oin sat across from them, hands folded lightly on the table and a look of unease veiling his face.

“Continue,” Thorin urged from behind his hand.  
“I don't think there are any broken bones, but his ribs are certainly bruised. The marks on his side suggest contact with a steel toed boot. The wounds on his back look to have been made by some sort of pliable wood. Something flexible, but strong.”

“He was whipped,” Thorin's statement was no question, and he again stifled the urge to tear through the mountain, hell bent on razing his own kingdom to the ground in search of the guilty party.

“Yes.” 

“And his limp?” Thorin queried.

“There are burn marks. On the sole of his foot.”

“Burns?” Thorin's voice was livid.  
Oin sighed and glanced sidelong at Balin with a knowing look. “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

Thorin clenched his teeth and slammed his fist on the table, causing both the other dwarves present to jump.

“Your highness, the lad is safe now. No sense in getting worked up over it, when we could be more productive by keeping our whits about us and finding the culprit.” 

Balin's voice was calm and even, and he set a hand gently on Thorin's to calm him.

Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
“And how do you propose we do that?”  
His voice was measured, his anger still evident boiling just below the surface.

“Steel toed boots,” Balin stated simply.  
Thorin raised an eyebrow and gave him a questioning look.  
“Not every dwarf has them, not even the soldiers. Who has such boots, Thorin?”  
“Officers,” Thorin answered with a hint of satisfaction.  
“Exactly.”

Thorin nodded slowly.  
“We have somewhere to start. Is there anything else, Oin?”  
“Nothing at this point,” the healer answered, “but I'll be needing to make that poultice for the hobbits burns and return to apply it with haste. Such wounds will fester if left untreated, and they already look to be taking infection. The hobbits bandages will need changing daily, until I clear him.”

“Thank you. While you're at it, take a good look at those burns. See if you can figure out what was used to make them. It might give us more information,” Thorin requested, “and send Dwalin in on your way out, if you please.”

Oin bowed and took his leave, Dwalin taking his place across the table moments later. 

“You sent for me Thorin?”  
“Yes Dwalin. Please, get me a list of the officers from the Ered Luin journey. We will meet to discuss each of them as soon as you have it ready. I will need your insight, dear friend,” Thorin ordered his guard. Dwalin bowed his head in respect and left swiftly. 

Balin gave Thorin an appraising look. “Lad, why are you taking this all so personally? I know you want to prove to your subjects that you are not your grandfather, but why is this affecting you so? I can see the anguish this is causing all over your face.”

Thorin sighed.  
“I have spent the better part of the last few decades convincing myself that the rumors of Thror's cruelty were just that. To see evidence of it up close, and immediately after his passing is.....”  
Thorin's voice trailed off and he shook his head, pulling a hand through his ebony tresses to settle himself.

“That is a heavy burden to bear, Thorin. You carry the weight of the kingdom upon your shoulders, and the grief of your grandfathers passing. Do not carry his guilt as your own. Thror will have to answer for his cruelty when he faces our Maker. There is no reason for you to blame yourself.”

“I did nothing to stop it, Balin! I didn't even bother to investigate the claims made against him.”

“To what end, lad? He was the king! Your questioning him would only have landed you exiled from the kingdom and cut off from your subjects and kin.” 

Balin lay a hand on Thorin's shoulder. “There was nothing you could have done then. And you are doing what you must now.”

Thorin closed his eyes and nodded.  
“If you need to talk laddie, you know I will listen.”  
Thorin looked at his old mentor and smiled, grateful to have the wise dwarf with him now. 

“Your majesty?” Gloin's voice came from the doorway, “Nori has arrived.”  
Thorin looked up, all business again as he folded his hands pointedly on the table.

“Nori? The thief?” Balin asked incredulously.  
“The spy,” Thorin replied, “that is, if he agrees to take the job.”

Balin smirked as the dwarf in question marched through the door, his stance relaxed and face a careful mask of indifference. The thief had red hair, braided and tufted to give the silhouette the appearance of a star. 

Nori was a bit arrogant, but rightly so. He was the most notorious thief in the mountain. Thorin had sat in on the hearings where Nori's clever tongue had kept him from being put in the dungeon more times than he could count.

“Nori, thank you for agreeing to join us,” Thorin addressed the star haired dwarf.  
“I haven't stolen anything recently, I'll have you know,” the thief began.  
“I am aware, and that is not why I sent for you. Please, have a seat.”

The thief whipped a chair out and plopped down easily. He pulled a dagger from his sleeve and began cleaning his fingernails with disinterest. 

“I have a proposition for you,” Thorin began, folding his hands on the table before him.  
“I have seen your talents, and I would like to give you a position on my council.”

Nori nearly dropped his dagger in shock at this declaration, but quickly recovered and rearranged his face into one of indifference.  
“Is that so?”

Thorin could see right through the thief's facade.  
“Yes. You will appear to be a respectable council member, but you will in all actuality act as my personal spy.”

Nori frowned, a bit taken aback.  
“And why exactly, Your Highness, would I agree to that? It sounds like a lot of work, and potentially dangerous.”

“For which you will be paid handsomely, and regularly. So long as you abandon your life of crime.....”  
Thorin cocked an eyebrow at the dwarf, eager to hear his response.

Nori paused, then slowly nodded.  
“Alright. I will agree. Under the stipulation that I am allowed a 30 day trial. I want to try this on for size before committing permanently to such an arrangement.”

“That is fair. I will have Balin draw up a contract we can go over this evening. In the meantime, I would like you to take on your first assignments, if you are agreeable. These are matters of the utmost importance.”

Nori signaled for Thorin to continue.

“I need you to spend some time around the officers of my grandfather's army. Listen carefully for any mention of a prisoner, or hobbit, or anything said against myself.”

Nori nodded, finally looking up at Thorin properly.  
“I can do that. Anything else?”  
“Keep your ears open. I need to know who I can trust. Take note of anything you notice of my grandfather's council and all the guild masters. I have a feeling I will be needing to replace most of them.”  
“Noted.”

“Report back to me if you hear anything. If nothing comes up beforehand, we will meet tomorrow at the same time.”  
“Might I suggest, Your Majesty, that we meet somewhere a little more private? It will no doubt look suspicious if we are meeting frequently in such obvious places.”

Thorin nodded his agreement. “A fine suggestion. We will meet in the royal chambers. The sitting room.”  
“You are not concerned your sister or nephews will overhear?”  
“I hide nothing from them. They are welcome to any information you may have to share with me. This evening, however, we will meet here to go over the contract. Thank you, Nori.”

The star haired thief stood and gave a quick bow, somehow managing to keep an air of defiance in the gesture, and slipped silently out the door. 

Thorin exhaled a sigh as his body visibly relaxed.  
“What now, laddie?” Balin asked him.  
“Now, we need to discuss possible repercussions for those guilty of the torture of the hobbit.”  
“Might I suggest-” Balin was cut off when the door slammed open and a large and visibly angry dwarf stormed into the meeting chambers.

“Golorin. Always a pleasure,” Thorin greeted the dwarf with a hint of sarcasm.  
“Thorin Oakenshield! What is the meaning of you dragging my soldiers into court in the middle of the night without so much as notifying me?”

Thorin raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”  
“You summoned my soldiers, without my leave, and without discussing anything with me!”  
“Yes.....”  
“You have no authority to-”  
“I am king, Golorin. If only unofficially at present. I have every authority. And just a reminder, it is you who answer to me, not the other way around.”

Golorin's face took on an even more violent shade of red as he sputtered.  
“You- I don't see how-” he struggled a bit, before deciding to take a different angle. “And why, pray tell, was such a meeting called? I heard tell you were ranting about a halfling, and some other garble, but what is the problem, Thorin?”

“You will address your king properly, General, lest you lose your tongue,” Balin warned sharply.  
“What is the problem, Your Highness?” Golorin's words were dripping with disdain.

“The problem is, your soldiers took a defenseless hobbit prisoner under no relevant grounds. Said hobbit was tortured and starved as he was dragged from his homeland, bound and beaten. I will find the guilty parties and bring them to justice. That, General, is the point.”

Golorin scoffed.  
“What is it to a dwarf king what happens to a simple halfling?”

“He was an innocent, Golorin. A civilian.”  
Thorin's voice was carefully level, but held a sense of stifled anger.

The General rolled his eyes. “He was weak.”

Thorin glared at the hot headed dwarf, daring him to go on.

“The weak do not survive in this world, Thorin.”  
“It is cowardly to prey on those unable to defend themselves.”  
“We must crush the weak! Only the strong survive. Surely you must know this to be true.”

“Those of the weakest bodies are often of the strongest hearts and minds. While the body will weaken with time, the heart and mind become stronger. We cannot survive on brute strength alone, Golorin. This I know to be true.”

Golorin exhaled a mirthless laugh.  
“I had hoped you were growing to be more like your grandfather. You will drive this kingdom to ruin,” he spat angrily. 

Thorin stood slowly, leveling the general with a murderous look.  
“It was my grandfather, strong of body and weak of mind and heart, that was overtaken by gold sickness. He would have led Erebor to her doom. I will build a stronger kingdom, united and unassailable. And if you stand in my way, do not for a moment think that I won't crush you.” 

General Golorin clenched his fists and turned on his heel, storming out of the room and slamming the stone door on his way.

Thorin dropped to his chair and laid his head back, sighing deeply. “Balin my friend, we have a lot of work to do. And we will start by finding a way to get rid of him.”

Balin grinned approvingly.  
“And who, pray tell, would take his place? We need someone reliable to command the entirety of Erebor's armies.”  
“Your brother, of course.”

Balin's smile grew.  
“I hoped you would say that. Dwalin is fierce and loyal, not to mention skilled in combat. He would make a fine General.”  
“Indeed he would. I must admit I will miss having so much time with him, but he is the only dwarf I would trust with the position.”

The old dwarf nodded.  
“Right you are, Thorin. When will you tell him?”  
“After you fire Golorin and we throw him into a pit.”

Balin couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped him.  
“Is that what awaits any who challenge you?”

Thorin gave Balin an amused look.  
“Perhaps. It would only be proper to follow in my grandfathers footsteps, after all. Any who challenge me will be thrown in a pit.”  
“And would there be anything in this pit? Or is it simply a hole in the ground?”

Thorin chuckled. “We'll fill it with dirt. But only after we throw Golorin and his cronies in it.”

The two laughed at the absurdity of the joke, and Thorin felt comfort at finding humor within such turmoil. 

Their laughter tapered down like a dying wind, and Balin's face grew serious once more.  
“Lad, you do realize that we will have to take down his supporters before we could possibly take on Golorin. He has far too many officers in his pocket.”

Thorin nodded grimly.  
“I know. But leaving him in a position of power, especially over our armies, is not an option.”  
“It will take quite some time.”  
“Yes. That it will.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has been following this fic.  
> I took liberties with Erebors army, I kept it simple and put my own flare on it. Don’t judge. 
> 
> This is by far the most involved story I've written, and your kind words are great encouragement!

Thorin made his way through the mountain halls, eager to return to his rooms. It had been a very long morning, and his worry for the hobbit had only made it longer. He felt as though he had hardly accomplished anything that morning, but he knew that wasn't entirely true. Still, there was so much to be done, and he was not eager to face the backlash it would undoubtedly cause. 

Especially from Golorin. 

Thorin clenched his fists as he thought of the haughty General, and his audacity barging in to the council rooms and speaking to him the way he had. The two had never liked each other, and Thorin knew it would be hell removing him from his position. Golorin had been close to Thror, and had used the late king's illness to his advantage. Thror had left the General to command his armies without having to answer to anyone, giving him far too much power, and it went straight to the general's head. Not to mention the backhanded deals and apparent slaves traded for who knows what benefits.

Therefore, Thorin knew Golorin's hatred for him was only going to grow since the king would now be holding he and his soldiers accountable for their actions. Not to mention, the favoritism was coming to an abrupt halt. 

No. Golorin would hate Thorin even more than he already did. The feeling was mutual, as the General had attempted to convince Thror to name someone stronger as his successor. Golorin saw through Thorin's placating and thought him weak. He knew that when Thorin took Thror's place, Erebor would change drastically. And not to his benefit. 

Thorin was stopped by a few council members, offering their condolences for the loss of his grandfather. He graciously accepted their kind words, wondering which ones were sincere, and which were seeking favor. He finally managed to shake them, when a messenger stopped him. The young dwarf informed him that Dis had requested Fili and Kili be sent to join her for lunch. Thorin thanked the him and assured him the message would be passed along. The messenger bowed and took his leave, and the king managed to pick through the halls without further interruption.

Thorin finally reached the royal chambers, letting out a relieved sigh as he closed the heavy stone door behind him. He looked over at the sound of hushed voices, and noticed his nephews sprawled on the couch before the hearth.

Thorin made his way over to the princes, spotting the hobbit seated on the rug as he leaned over the back of the couch.  
“Good afternoon, Master Baggins. I trust my nephews have been gracious hosts this morning?”

Bilbo nodded with a small smile. 

“Of course uncle, would you expect any less of us?” Kili said with a bat of his dark eyelashes.  
Thorin rolled his eyes in response and came around to settle himself on the couch next to Fili. 

“And what stories have you been weaving for our fine guest?”  
“Nothing too terrible uncle! Just the story mother told us about you setting the tapestries on fire in the great hall during her namesake ceremony!” Kili announced gleefully.

Thorin rubbed his face in embarrassment.

“Fili, Kili, I believe your mother is waiting for you in the dining hall.”

The princes exchanged an amused look, then quickly rose from the couch and raced each other to the door. 

“You cheated! Ki you tripped me!”  
“Have a pleasant afternoon, Master Boggins! Perhaps we shall talk more later!” Kili called over his shoulder as he and his brother wrestled each other out the door.

Thorin smiled fondly at the young dwarves antics. After the door had shut he returned his gaze to Bilbo. The hobbit's head dropped and he began fidgeting nervously with the hem of his tunic. 

“I see Kili managed to find you some clothing,” Thorin broke the silence a little awkwardly. 

“Oh. Oh yes- yes, I'm afraid they're a little baggy, but I am very grateful,” Bilbo looked up for a moment, his eyes full of sincerity.

Thorin smiled. “That is a good color on you.”  
Bilbo blushed lightly in response, lowering his head again.

The dwarf almost slapped his hand over his face as his words registered to his muddled brain. 

The hobbit had been present in Erebor for less than twenty four hours, and already Thorin was overstepping the lines of propriety. He couldn't help it, really. It was only natural for him to want to shower his One with compliments and begin courting properly. 

Of course in this instance, such actions would undoubtedly have disastrous consequences. 

His instincts were going to be the death of him.

“Would you care for lunch, Master Baggins?” Thorin attempted to recover from his fumbling. He was pleased when the hobbit looked up with a hint of a smile.

“Oh yes, if it's not any trouble,” Bilbo replied, his excitement evident at the thought of two full meals so close together.  
“I have already asked Bombur to send it up. He should arrive at any time. I hope you're hungry.”  
“Of course, very hungry. Hobbits tend to enjoy several meals throughout the day, and I have quite a few missed courses to make up for!”

Thorin was glad Bilbo was able to make light of his recent experience, but the flare of his so recently tamped out ire burned through him like fire in his veins. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, managing to smother his anger back down to a more tolerable level. 

When he had gathered himself and looked up again, Bilbo was now standing a little further away than he had been a moment ago. 

Thorin frowned and took in the hobbit's stance, realizing his fit of temper had set his guest ill at ease. 

“Have I upset you?” Bilbo's voice was hesitant and small, and Thorin felt another wave of guilt.  
“No, no Master Baggins, I apologize for scaring you. Again. What did it?”

Bilbo grimaced.  
“Your anger. I have been conditioned to expect most terrible things from angry dwarves.”  
Thorin cringed at the fresh onslaught of rage the words induced.  
“It is not you I am angry with. It is my grandfather's soldiers. They had no right to-”

Bilbo shook his head.  
“Please, let's not speak of it. I can't just yet.” 

Thorin nodded. “Of course, Master Baggins.”  
They fell into an awkward silence, Thorin on the couch and Bilbo retaking his place on the rug.

“You seem to be getting on well with my nephews,” Thorin's voice was slightly strained as he changed the subject.  
“Yes, they are a joy to be around,” Bilbo answered warmly.  
Thorin smiled.  
“They're good boys. A bit rambunctious, but it keeps things interesting I suppose.”  
Bilbo chuckled at that, then glanced at Thorin.  
“Do you have any? Children, I mean.”

“Oh no, not me. A dwarrowdam is a rare treasure, and dwarflings even rarer still. It was only through sheer luck that Dis ended up with two of them.”

“Doesn't a king need heirs?”  
“Of course. Though that does not necessarily mean they must be my own. As it happens, Fili is my heir.”

Bilbo looked back at the fire and nodded.  
“Some day I believe he would make a fine king,” Bilbo said.

Thorin grinned.  
“And you are an expert on the standards of dwarven rulers, are you?”

Bilbo looked a bit flummoxed, then caught the look on Thorin's face.  
“You are teasing me,” he stated plainly.  
“Yes. I am,” Thorin answered.

Bilbo smiled, his pallid face taking on a pink hue.  
“I only mean he seems of a good sort. And a bit less mischievous than his brother.”

Thorin laughed, a comforting rumble like the beginning of a rainstorm, and Bilbo found himself laughing too, feeling more at ease than he had in a very long time. The sound was music to Thorin's ears, and by the time they settled, his face hurt from smiling so much. 

There was a knock at the door, and Thorin leapt to his feet with a grin still plastered on his face as he pulled it open. Bombur looked up at the king, and beamed to see Thorin's smile. 

“Don't know what's got you in such high spirits, Your Highness, but I am certainly glad to see it.”

“Thank you Bombur,” Thorin nodded to the chef, taking the tray.  
Bombur gave a short bow and took his leave. 

Thorin closed the door with a booted foot and brought the tray to Bilbo. He set it on the table before the hearth and decided if the hobbit was still reluctant to sit on the furniture, Thorin would join him on the floor. He sat between the table and hearth, close to Bilbo, but tried not to get close enough to make him nervous. 

Bilbo shot an incredulous look at the dwarf, brow furrowed in dismay.  
“Is it customary for the king to take lunch on the floor?”  
“No. But I do like a change of pace once in a while.”

Bilbo smiled shyly and the two ate in comfortable silence. 

By the time they had finished, Bilbo was feeling rather tired yet again. He tried to stifle a yawn behind his hand, but Thorin would not be fooled. 

“You should take rest, Master Baggins. I have a few other matters to attend to before my day is over, and you are in great need of sleep.”

“Yes, I do think a nap would do me well.” He gave Thorin a worried look.  
“There are guards outside?”

Thorin nodded softly.  
“Yes, I will leave one of my own personal guards at the door in fact. His name is Gloin, and he will protect you with his very life.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. “Then who will protect yours, Your Majesty?”

“My guard captain Dwalin, once I meet with him, and I will have two other guards with me. There are enough guards in the mountain to spare Gloin.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo's reply was quiet and the soft look he gave Thorin nearly melted him on the spot. The hobbit was trying to adjust to being treated decently, and his bewilderment at the change was heartbreaking to the dwarf. 

“Kili will return soon as well. He has studies he should be tending to this afternoon.”

Bilbo smiled. “Perhaps I will study with him. Hobbits are naturally curious, and I have a particular interest in reading.”  
“You are welcome to the books in this room, as well as any in Erebor's library.”

Bilbo's face lit up at the mention of a library, then he frowned a bit.  
“I do not know if I will be up for wandering the mountain very soon, but I would love to see the library some day.” 

“I would be glad to show you,” Thorin said, then thought better of limiting Bilbo to leaving the room strictly with him.  
“Or one of my nephews or guards could take you there. Whenever you are ready, you have but to ask.”

Bilbo felt quite privileged to know that so many important dwarves might be willing to show him around, though he did not like the thought of possibly being a bother with such a request. He gave Thorin a warm smile, then got up to head to the kings bedchamber. Then he stopped. 

“Should- is there somewhere else I should be sleeping? I feel like I'm intruding, sleeping in your chambers.”  
“No Master Baggins, you are more than welcome to stay in my chambers for as long as it feels comfortable.”

Bilbo looked at the king through misty eyes.  
“I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.”

“It is no trouble, Master Baggins.”  
Thorin rose to his feet.  
“But now, I must go to meet with my guard captain. I will see you this evening.”

Bilbo smiled to himself as Thorin left the room. He made his way into the kings chamber and padded across the floor, careful of his injured foot. He climbed up onto the mattress and wrapped himself in blankets. He was exhausted, and quite comfortable in Thorin's bed, but sleep was reluctant to claim him. He lay awake for a while, mulling over the days events. 

When finally he had drifted off, his mind was overrun by unsettling dreams. He tossed and turned, a cold sweat dampening his brow and he jumped up with a shout as a hand touched his face. 

Oin jumped back at the hobbit's violent reaction and waited for Bilbo to become more alert. 

Bilbo sat against the headboard, his heart racing and breaths coming out in shallow gasps as he took in his surroundings. His eyes were wide in terror, until he began to recognize the face before him.

“Take a deep breath, lad. There now, easy does it,” the old healer muttered in a comforting tone.

Bilbo's breathing slowed, and his tensed muscles began to relax just a little.

“Do you know where you are, lad?”

The hobbit swallowed.  
“Erebor.”  
His shoulders dropped as he finally managed to calm himself a bit. 

Oin nodded in approval. 

“Sorry, Master Oin,” Bilbo said sheepishly as he rubbed his face with shaky hands.

“Bad dreams are to be expected, Master Baggins. They will fade with time. But for now, let me have a look at your foot.”

Bilbo sighed and slid over to the edge of the bed. He offered the injured appendage to the healer, who took it up in firm but gentle hands. The dwarf inspected the sole, looking for indications of what had made them. He was afraid to ask, but decided the pros far outweighed the discomfort such questions would cause the hobbit.

“I hate to bring this up, and I wouldn't if I didn't think it was necessary. But would you mind if I asked a few questions about these burns?”

Bilbo paled, but nodded weakly in agreement.

“What was used to make these marks?”

Bilbo's eyes closed.  
“A sword or maybe a dagger... a blade of some sort. Heated over a fire. I cannot be certain, it was dark, and the pain....” Bilbo shook his head as his voice trailed off.

“How long before you reached Erebor did this happen?”

Bilbo shrugged.  
“A week or two maybe? The days all blurred together. Though I know it can't have been more than a month.”

Oin nodded, satisfied. “Thank you, Bilbo. I am sure it is painful to speak of.”  
The hobbit nodded and turned his head in a vain attempt to hide the emotions that crossed his face. He flinched a bit, but managed to hold mostly still as the healer covered the bottom of his foot in a thick salve and quickly wrapped it. 

“I'll be back tomorrow to change your bandages. Ya need to keep weight off that foot. Try to get some sleep tonight, and if the nightmares get to be too much, have Thorin let me know. I can make an elixir that will help, but I would rather not use it unless I have to. It can become addictive.”

“Thank you, Master Oin,” Bilbo said gratefully.  
“It's no trouble lad. Now I believe Kili is in the other room if you are wantin company. Until tomorrow, my dear hobbit! And keep weight off of that foot!” Oin called behind him as he left. 

Bilbo rubbed his face again, settling his raw emotions, and decided that yes. He would very much like to spend a little more time with the prince. 

* * * * *

Thorin and Balin found themselves yet again at the great stone table of the meeting room. Dwalin sat next to Thorin, smoothing a piece of parchment before him. 

“These are the officers who were with the army. Luckily, there are only five of em. Shouldn't be all too difficult to narrow down the guilty party,” Dwalin gestured to the parchment before them. 

Thorin looked over the list, then let out a sigh.  
“Four lieutenants and a captain.”  
“Which captain?” Balin asked, leaning over to look.  
“Golorin's brother of course,” Thorin answered grimly.

Balin shot his gaze up to the ceiling, letting out a resigned sigh. “Of course.”  
“Now, we have to find out which ones are guilty. Unless of course, they all are,” Thorin grumbled.

“Can't we just ask the halfling? Surely he would be able to point em out,” Dwalin suggested roughly.

“I can't ask that of him just yet. He is still recovering from his capture, and Oin is afraid that pressing him for information will upset him further. Let alone having him face his tormentors at this juncture. No, my friend. We are on our own in this. For now.”

“What do you know of these officers, Dwalin?” Balin asked his brother.

Dwalin narrowed his eyes at the list.  
“Well, obviously Captain Bolorin is a right prick. Let's see... Lieutenants Glormur and Nuk, I dunno of them personally, but I do know they are under Captain Gilda. I've never heard her say anythin good about those two. I know Lieutenant Tamir and Lieutenant Raburk are under Bolorin. My friend Bifur is as well. Maybe he'll have some insight.”

Thorin nodded.  
“I suppose we will schedule a time to meet with Captain Gilda,” he suggested, “Get a feel for the Lieutenants before we question them. Gilda is of a good sort. She and my grandfather had a hard time seeing eye to eye on more than one occasion. Do you think you could talk to Bifur in the next few days?”

“Aye. We're due to meet for an ale a night or two this week. I'll see what I can find out.”

Thorin nodded in approval. “Excellent. After my grandfather is laid to rest, we will begin investigating in earnest. Until then, keep an eye out. I hardly trust anyone in this mountain at this point.”

There was a knock on the door, and Dwalin rose from his chair and lumbered over to answer it. He pulled it open to reveal Nori, leaning casually against the door frame.

“You! What in the name of Durin's smelly ball sack are you doin here?!” Dwalin roared at the thief. 

Nori smirked in reply and ducked under the angry guards massive arm and strode into the room.

Balin leveled his brother with a disapproving look as the guard turned around, and Dwalin answered in kind with a fuming scowl.

“Dwalin, meet my new spy, Nori,” Thorin announced, his amusement obvious at his friends irritation.

“That blasted-” Dwalin ran a hand over his head angrily.  
“I hope ye know what yer doin! Mad, both of ye, absolutely mad!” the guard rambled as he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Nori sighed and turned to the king.  
“He's never cared for me much,” he said simply.  
“To be honest, neither have I,” Balin replied as he smoothed out a rolled up parchment over the table and beckoned the thief over.  
“Here lad, come have a look.”

Nori frowned at the old dwarf, then came over and sat right on the table, pulling the contract onto his lap for review. 

“Any chance my brothers and I could get a tax break for this agreement?” Nori asked offhandedly.  
“You know I can't do that, it's entirely unethical. Everyone has to do their share, Nori,” Thorin answered somberly.

Nori glanced sidelong at the king, the corner of his mouth pulled up in an amused smirk.  
“You aren't your grandfather, then, are you King Thorin?”  
Thorin grinned proudly.  
“No, Master Nori. I am not.”

The rest of the meeting went smoothly, and after a few minor changes, the contract was signed and Nori was employed as a spy for the kingdom of Erebor. The thief was still a bit surprised at having gone from a criminal to being so close to Thorin's inner circle in less than a day. Not that he would complain. The paycheck would be a relief, and even his older brother would approve of him giving up his life of crime. He bowed as he bid the king a good evening, and went off to tell his brothers the news.

Thorin's mind was off the contract and on to a certain hobbit before Nori had walked out the door. The effects of the Spark were pulling at him, and the need to be closer to the hobbit was growing. He couldn't help but wonder how in Mahal's name he was going to even begin to form a relationship with Bilbo. The hobbit was practically scared of his own shadow, and Thorin knew his opinion of dwarves could not be very flattering. 

“Thorin?” Balin's voice finally crashed through and pulled the king from his worried thoughts.  
“Hmm?” was the eloquent reply.  
“I said, you had better get some sleep tonight. There will be many present when we lay your grandfather to rest, tomorrow.” He gave Thorin an assessing look.  
“Are you alright, laddie?”

Thorin shook himself a bit. “Yes. Yes I'm fine. Just tired. It's been a very long day.”  
“Aye, that it has. Best be off to bed, then.”  
Balin rose from his seat and patted Thorin on the shoulder.  
“See ya tomorrow, laddie.”  
The old dwarf sauntered off, leaving Thorin to his thoughts.

* * * * *

The room was warm, and familiar voices floated through it as Thorin entered the royal chambers. 

“And there are different branches to Erebor's army?” Bilbo's voice was full of curiosity.  
“Oh yes, yes there are three. Archers, guards, and soldiers. And there are two different types of soldiers,” Kili's voice answered.  
“Two? What are they? And what is the difference?”  
“There are the Anvils, and the Hammers. The Anvils are the first wave. During battle, they are sent to the front. Their job is to hold back the enemy and start to wear them down. Then, the Hammers come in and smash the enemy as the Anvils hold them from advancing.”

Bilbo was quiet as he took in the information.  
“That sounds like an effective strategy.”  
“It is. Typically.” Kili looked up as his uncle approached the pair.

“And... what group is sent on foreign ventures?” Bilbo asked with a downcast face.  
Kili swallowed and glanced up at Thorin before he answered.  
“A fair mix of soldiers and archers. The guards don't typically leave the mountain.”  
Bilbo nodded in reply. 

Thorin sighed, and Bilbo's head snapped up at the sound.  
“Good evening, Your Highness,” he greeted the king softly.  
“Good evening, Master Baggins.”

Thorin struggled to find something more clever to say, but came up with nothing. He was far too tired to make conversation, and he was sure he would only say something stupid and upset the hobbit again. Instead, he figured it was time to call it a night.

“Are you ready to turn in, Master Baggins? You are welcome to stay up with Kili, if you'd like.”  
Bilbo got up to his feet and gave Thorin a small smile.  
“I am quite ready to see this day end.” He looked at Kili. “Thank you, Prince Kili, for keeping me company this evening. I hope to see you again tomorrow.”

Bilbo waited as Thorin kissed Kili's head and ruffled his hair, then the hobbit followed the king to his rooms. 

When the door had shut behind them, the hobbit stood awkwardly near the doorway, fidgeting again. 

“Have you eaten, Master hobbit?”  
“Yes, yes I took my meal with Prince Kili this evening.”  
He suddenly looked worried.  
“I hope that was alright. It did not occur to me that you may have wished for me to wait for you.”

“No, no that is quite alright, Master Baggins. I'm glad you spent some time with my nephew.” He gave Bilbo a reassuring smile, then headed off to the bath.

Bilbo waited a moment, until he heard the tub begin to fill, then he started digging through the clothes Kili had left him, finding a comfortable long shirt to wear to bed. He changed his clothes and climbed into the kings bed. He lay awake for a few minutes, trying to rid his mind of the dark thoughts that came with the night, but soon he had drifted off into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters may get just a tad shorter after this one. Makes it easier to keep track of. I hope you enjoyed this one! Next one coming soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!  
> Enjoy!

Thorin blinked slowly, trying to pull himself from sleep. He thought he may have been dreaming, but he couldn't remember what of. He frowned and rubbed his eyes as a small whimper reached his ears. He glanced around in the soft dim glow of the embers in the hearth, and realized the sounds were coming from the bed. 

Bilbo. 

Thorin rose and made his way to the bedside as the sounds grew a bit louder and the hobbit started thrashing in the blankets. The dwarf sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to rouse him.

“Master Baggins?” he set a tentative hand on Bilbo's back, rubbing gently.  
The hobbit cringed and rolled to his side, pulling his knees up to his chest.  
“Bilbo?” Thorin tried again, gently stroking the hobbit's clammy face. 

“No! No don't!”  
Bilbo's shouts were heart wrenching, and Thorin placed his hands on the hobbit's side and shook him lightly.  
“Bilbo wake up!” Thorin pleaded. 

Bilbo screamed. Hazel eyes flew open, and the hobbit jumped in surprise, tumbling off the bed in a tangle of blankets with a crash. 

“Master Baggins?” Thorin called softly.  
“Mmph.”  
A hand appeared on the edge of the mattress, then the hobbit's sleep mussed curls came into view as Bilbo stood on shaky legs. 

“Are you alright?”  
“Yes, yes I believe so.”  
“My apologies, I didn't mean to scare you. You were thrashing and shouting in your sleep.”  
“I'm terribly sorry, Your Highness. Oin said the dreams will eventually wear off.”  
“Nobody expects you to be recovered so soon.”

With a gentle smile, Thorin stood and gave Bilbo an uncertain look.  
“You sure you're alright?”  
His eyes ran over the hobbit as he climbed on to the bed, pausing on the bruises and cuts made visible by a loose collar of his night shirt.  
“Yes, I'm sure I'll be fine. Please, don't let me take anymore of your sleep this night.”

Thorin sighed a little.  
“It is no new thing for me to miss a little sleep, Master Baggins. Nor do I mind.”  
Bilbo gave the dwarf a warm look as he crawled back under the blankets.  
“Thank you,” the hobbit murmured as he settled back in.  
“Let me know if you need me,” Thorin said, then he went back over to lay down on the lounge.

Bilbo lay awake for as long as he could manage, afraid the dreams would claim him again, and he would find himself bound and gagged, tied to that tree. He shook his head and tried to put the memory from his mind. Honestly, he didn't want to wake the king again. He knew Thorin had to be at his best tomorrow. Kili had told him they were laying Thror to rest.

Bilbo wondered how much Thorin was hiding. It couldn't be easy, losing a family member. Even if that family member had been as cold and cruel as King Thror. From what he had gathered, the dwarf hadn't always been that way, and Bilbo knew what it was like to lose family. 

With these unpleasant thoughts on his mind, Bilbo was again claimed by sleep.

* * * * *

Thorin woke with a start as a scream tore through the room. The golden light of dawn flooded his vision as he rubbed at his eyes. Another scream sent him leaping from the lounge and running to the bed, where Bilbo was just pulling out of a troubled sleep. 

“Master Baggins, are you awake?”  
Bilbo sat bolt upright in the bed, chest heaving and breaths leaving his lungs in sharp gusts. His face was pale, and covered in a sheen of glistening sweat. He looked up at Thorin, eyes wide and full of fear.  
“Bilbo?”

The hobbit rubbed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing.  
“I- I'm sorry, Your Highness.”  
“It's no matter, Master Baggins. It can only be expected.”  
“Yes,” Bilbo's voice was devoid of emotion, and Thorin frowned in worry for the hobbit. 

Bilbo flung himself down onto the mattress again, then curled up beneath the blankets, pulling them up to his chin.  
“I will send for breakfast,” Thorin grew more anxious when there was no reply. He hesitated before finally leaving the room and found Dis already in the sitting room. 

“Did you...” Thorin began.  
“Hear? Yes. Is he alright?” Dis asked softly.  
“I don't know. I am worried. He does not seem himself.”  
“Himself? And how well do you know him, after such a short time?”

Thorin grimaced.  
“Well enough to know he is not alright.”  
“Thorin?”  
He looked up at his sister innocently. “What?”  
Dis narrowed her green eyes at him, quirking an eyebrow for effect.  
“What?!”  
“What's going on, Thorin? What aren't you telling me?”  
Thorin rolled his eyes. “What makes you think I'm hiding something?”  
“I know you, brother. Spill.”

Thorin sighed, glaring at the ceiling.  
“Can't I just send for breakfast?”  
“Yes. Send for breakfast. Then get over here and tell me what's on your mind.”  
Thorin rubbed his hands over his face.  
“Very well.”

The king knew better than to argue with his sister. When Dis was determined, she always got her way. He went to the door, let a guard know to find a messenger to send to the kitchens, then he begrudgingly strode over and dropped himself into a chair by the fire.

“Well?” Dis pressed.  
“I am worried for Master Baggins.”  
“Yes. You have said as much.”  
“I care for him.”  
“That much is plain. Although you hardly know him.”  
“It's not....”  
Thorin ran a hand through his hair.  
“I had...”  
“You are not usually so eloquent.”  
Thorin sighed.  
“He is my One. I have felt The Spark.”

Dis's eyes widened a bit, but she showed no other sign of surprise.  
“I see. So what are you going to do?”  
“What can I do, Dis? He is not in any condition to deal with this right now.”

Dis frowned.  
“No. Perhaps not. But you will have to tell him eventually. You know what will happen if you try to ignore the finding of your One.”  
Thorin nodded.  
“I do, but could we at least get through today before we go planning weddings?”

Dis smiled that arrogant smile that set Thorin's teeth on edge.  
“So, you have already been thinking about marriage, have you?”  
“Dis, please.”  
His sister chuckled at him.  
“Yes alright calm down. I won't say a word. For now. But you know you can't keep this up for long. The effects will start to take their toll on you.”  
“Yes, yes I know. Just.... stop smirking at me and let me know when breakfast arrives.”

Thorin jumped up and stomped back to his room. He was surprised to see that Bilbo was asleep when he entered, but he decided it would be best to let the hobbit be for now. He strode to the wardrobe by the bed and readied himself for the day. He had just finished dressing when there was a knock on the door. 

Thorin opened the door to find Oin, armed with his medical bag, and he welcomed the healer in.

“He's asleep,” Thorin warned the healer.  
“No matter. He can sleep all day, if he likes. But I'll need to wake him in the meantime.”  
The old dwarf set his bag next to the bed and sat next to the sleeping hobbit. 

“Master Baggins?”  
There was a snort in reply.  
“Master Baggins, ya need to be waking up now.”  
Bilbo's eyes fluttered open and he gazed at Oin groggily.  
“Hmm?”

“It's time to change your bandages, laddie,” Oin said softly.  
“Oh. Alright.” Bilbo rubbed his eyes and sat up, then noticed Thorin standing in the middle of the room. Oin caught the hobbit's expression, and turned to the king. 

“Your Majesty? Would you mind....” he hinted at the door.  
“Oh.” Thorin's brow furrowed.  
He hadn't considered the hobbit would insist on his leaving, and he was surprised to find it bothered him.  
“Yes, of course, I'll just.....” he trailed off and hesitantly made his way out. 

Thorin was still frowning when he entered the sitting room, and it took him a moment to notice Nori sitting with Dis on the sofa. 

“Good morning, Your Highness. You're looking... perplexed this morning,” the thief greeted him.  
“Nori. Any news?” Thorin straightened himself as he came to sit in the chair, looking expectantly at the star haired dwarf.

“Yes, actually. Though it's not much. I was at the tavern last night.”

Thorin nodded his head and urged Nori to continue.

“A handful of archers came in, all talking in hushed voices. But you know how the lads are, once they start drinking. They were laughing and joking amongst themselves. Something about a lieutenant having it coming. They were talking of how you were on to him, and he was going to be stopped. I assume it was about one of the dwarves you are after, and they seemed relieved.”

Thorin thought for a moment.  
“Was there anything else?”  
“Not on that front. On another note, there is a lot of talk going on through the mountain. Your people are worried, Your Highness. Many of them fear you, and others hope to find favor and take advantage of your..... potentially corrupt ways. They assume you will be like your grandfather, developing alliances through bribery and blackmail, and they seek to reap the benefits. Watch your back today, Your Majesty. Many seek to stab it.”

“That is less than encouraging,” Dis piped in from Nori's side.  
“I only speak the truth.” Nori's eyes roved over the dwarrowdam.  
“At least nobody is after you, My Lady.”  
Dis raised her eyebrows pointedly at the dwarf.  
“I feel that is not entirely true, Master spy. Or is it thief?”  
“That is for you to decide.”

“Oh for the.....would you please refrain from flirting with my sister in my presence? At least try to pretend you are somewhat respectable,” Thorin said irritably.

“Oh, don't mind him, Master Nori. He's just jealous.”  
“Jealous?” Nori asked, his curiosity peaked.  
“Yes, see, it's been quite some time since anyone bothered to flirt with him.”  
Nori smothered a chuckle as Thorin glared daggers at his sister. 

Luckily, they were interrupted when Bombur arrived with breakfast. Thorin took the tray and started back to his rooms when he noticed Nori was still sitting next to Dis, smiling and speaking in hushed tones.  
“Nori, you may go.”  
Nori looked up and caught the look the king was leveling him with, and decided it would be best to listen. He hopped up and left as Dis threw an annoyed glare at Thorin.

“Why did you do that? We were just talking.”

Thorin muttered under his breath and turned, leaving Dis chuckling to herself by the fireside. He was still muttering and scowling when he entered his room, then he looked up as Oin finished smoothing salve on Bilbo's foot. 

The sight of inflamed burned flesh pushed Thorin over the edge. He groaned angrily to himself, then set the tray at the foot of the bed and left just as quickly as he'd come. 

Oin looked up to meet Bilbo's eyes. The hobbit's face was downcast, and he sniffled a bit as he lowered his head.  
“I keep feeling as though he is angry with me when he does that.”  
“No, no lad. It's just... uncomfortable for him, seeing your injuries. He feels responsible.”  
“He didn't do this.”  
“No, but his grandfather allowed and even encouraged this kind of thing. Thorin couldn't have stopped him, but somehow, he still blames himself.”  
“That doesn't make any sense.”  
Oin chuckled half heartedly. “It doesn't. But try telling him that.”

Bilbo glanced sidelong at the healer. “I'd be afraid to try telling him much of anything, when he's in a temper.”  
“You'll get used to it, lad. He's all clamor, no hammer.”  
“He's what now?”  
“He doesn't... hmm.” Oin thought for a moment. “He sounds fearsome, but in reality, he is a kind and giving soul.”

Bilbo nodded. “I think I knew that.”  
Oin gave him a gentle smile as he secured the bandages on his foot.  
“That should do it!”  
“Thank you. Would it be a bad thing if I spent a bit more of the day in bed? I don't feel so well.”  
“I'm sure not. I'm afraid infection has set in, and with it you've developed a bit of a fever. I advise you to stay in bed today.”  
“Oh. I suppose that's why my foot has been throbbing. Is it serious?”  
“Not at this point. I will come in to monitor you throughout the day. Try to eat something, and take it easy.”

Bilbo nodded in understanding and reached for the tray at the foot of the bed.  
“See you this afternoon, Master Baggins!” Oin called out as he left. 

Thorin was waiting just outside the door as Oin exited the bed chambers.  
“So?”  
Oin jumped at the kings proximity, then scowled at him.  
“Ya gave him quite a fright with that temper of yours, Your Majesty.”  
Thorin had the good grace to look ashamed.  
“I'm sure,” Thorin muttered at the floor.

“Fever is setting in.” Oin put his hands up to stop Thorin before he unleashed the slew of questions that were so obviously about to spill out.  
“I've given him some medicines and put more healing salve on his wounds, but at this point, it isn't anything dire.”  
Thorin visibly calmed as he nodded.  
“Thank you Oin.”  
“And don't worry, I'll be checking on him every few hours. You have enough on your plate today.”

Despite the healers reassurances, the worry was clear on Thorin's face. He looked as though he hadn't slept much the night before, and his expression seemed stuck in a permanent frown.

“Lad?” Oin met Thorin's eye and gave him a pointed look.  
“Are ya feelin alright? You look... unwell.”  
“I'm fine, Oin,” Thorin brushed the healer off and strode through the room, leaving a perplexed healer standing at his door. 

Thorin stepped out into the hall, turning to face his guards.  
“Dwalin, I would like you to stay here today.”  
Dwalin's eyebrows shot up at the declaration.  
“There are going to be a lot of outsiders at the ceremony. Don't ya think it may be wise for me to be protectin you?”  
“I need someone I can trust watching over Bil- Master Baggins.”  
“And any old guard will be fine enough protectin our king?”

Thorin nearly stomped his foot in his frustration. Why didn't Dwalin understand?  
“I can't leave him unprotected! Anyone could show up in these halls while we are all otherwise engaged at the ceremony! It would be the perfect time for someone to get to him.”  
Dwalin looked at his king in confusion.  
“Thorin?”  
“Just.... alright. Assign four of your most trusted guards to this post. Nobody but Master Oin, myself, or my kin enter.”

Dwalin nodded slowly, still giving Thorin a strange look.  
“Yes Yer Majesty.” He turned and shook his head lightly, going forth to gather a few more guards.

Thorin watched him leave, then let out a sigh and set his forehead on the cool stone wall, taking a moment to breathe. The remaining guard at the door gave him a questioning look, but Thorin just shook his head. He had to get a handle on himself. He was torn between Thorin the King and Thorin the Dwarf who had found his match. Too many mistakes could be made if his head wasn't where it needed to be. 

Dwalin was right. There were to be many outsiders present today, as they laid Thorin's grandfather to rest. He needed to keep his whits about him, and the best way to do that would be to ensure Bilbo would be safe while he was gone. Thorin went back inside to discuss the matter with Dis. She would know what to do.

* * * * *

It turned out Thorin was right in his assumption that Dis would have some idea of how to keep Bilbo safe. She agreed that four guards should stay outside the royal chambers, and Kili could stay behind, keeping a closer eye on the hobbit. 

Thorin did not like the idea, but finally gave in when he was reminded of his nephews skill with a bow. He and Dis approached the prince to make their request, which Kili accepted quickly. He had no wish to appear at the ceremony for a great grandfather he had never spent any amount of time with, and was more eager to spend time with the hobbit. 

After making Kili promise not to wake Bilbo while he slept, Thorin, Dis, and Fili went off to the ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “He’s all clamor, no hammer” is my attempt on a dwarvish version of “He’s all bark no bite.” Just to clarify.
> 
> I adore you all! Thank you for sticking with me. More to come soon!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I said updates would be slow.

Bilbo woke shivering, his teeth chattering noisily as he sat up and glanced around the room. It was dark and empty, so the hobbit decided to search for a familiar face. He hopped down lightly from the bed, wrapping a blanket around his shaking frame, and made his way to the door. He opened it a crack and peeked out warily.

“Master Boggins! Good to see you.”  
Kili's face fell as he took in the state of the hobbit.  
“You look terrible.”  
Bilbo scowled.  
“Thank you, Kili.”  
“I just mean you are quite pale. And shivering? Come, sit with me. I will warm you.”  
Kili's face was earnest and Bilbo didn't have it in him to argue. He felt absolutely miserable, and so he hobbled over and plopped down on the cushion next to the prince.

“There now,” Kili said, pulling Bilbo in to his side, “better?”

Bilbo was surprised at the amount of heat radiating from the dwarf. He had spent a lot of time around dwarves, but never pressed up against one, and the warmth was quite impressive. Instead of answering, he burrowed in to Kili's ribs, eliciting a giggle from the prince as he attempted to stop his shivering. The princes face fell as he looked down at the hobbit.

“Master Boggins, you're burning up,” Kili's voice was suddenly full of concern.  
“It's Baggins,” Bilbo's voice was muffled as his face was buried in Kili's tunic.  
“Baggins, Boggins. You're burning up all the same.”  
Kili grabbed the hobbit and pulled him from his side. He put a wrist to Bilbo's forehead, and his face became panicked.  
“I'll send a guard to get Master Oin,” Kili announced as he shot up and ran to the door.

Bilbo curled up to lay where the dwarf had been sitting, relishing the warmed cushion under his face. When Kili returned, he scooped the hobbit up easily and hauled him back to bed. 

By the time Oin arrived, Bilbo was asleep again, and Kili sat worriedly by his side.

“How long has he been like this?” the healer asked.  
“I can't be sure. He came out to the sitting room, and he was shivering. I told him to sit by me, and he was burning up. I sent for you and carried him back in here. Can't have been that long. But I don't know how long he was like this before he got up.”

“Well, it's only been a few hours since I came to check him. Alright lad. Have some cloths and a bowl sent up from the infirmary. Then you go find your uncle and tell him what happened. He'll have a fit if we don't let him know right away. Off you go, then.”

Kili took no time and ran out to find Thorin. He stopped at the infirmary on his way down to the main halls and asked for cloths and a bowl to be taken to the royal chambers, then he was off again. He ran through the mountain, stopping only when he reached the doors of the great hall, where a feast was being held in honor of King Thror's memory. He stopped and leaned heavily against the wall to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow. 

After he had collected himself, he opened the door and hastened in. The room was filled with dwarves, men, and elves, and nobody seemed to be mourning. Everyone was dancing and drinking and laughing, and Kili looked over the sea of bodies, trying to spot his uncle. He finally spotted him, sitting at a back table looking more irritated than Kili had ever seen him. The prince quickly picked his way through the crowd, politely declining offers to dance, and graciously accepting condolences. 

Finally Kili stood before a brooding Thorin. The king was frowning deeply, eyes focused on something beyond the room in front of him.

“Uncle?”  
Thorin jumped and looked up in bewilderment.  
“Kili? What's happened?” Thorin's face was heavy with concern as he jumped to his feet.  
“It's Master Baggins. His fever has spiked. Oin sent me to get you.”

Thorin did not answer, but strode off at a brisk pace, barreling through the room. Kili struggled to keep up, a little more hesitant to shoulder past dwarves and elves alike as they made their way through the door and down the empty halls.

It felt like mere seconds before they had reached the royal chambers, and Thorin spared no time before storming inside, Kili ever present at his heels. 

Thorin pushed open his bedchamber door and rushed over to the bedside.

“Oin?”  
“His fever has spiked, Your Majesty. We need to bring it down,” the healer explained as he wrung out another rag and pressed it to Bilbo's forehead.   
“Is he going to be ok?” Kili asked in a small voice.

Thorin and Oin exchanged worried glances.  
“We can only hope,” the healer answered.  
“Would you like to transfer him to the infirmary, Your Majesty? That way I might care for him without keeping you up all night.”   
The healer knew the kings answer before he even asked, but decided it would not be a bad idea to suggest it.

“No. He stays here. We can take shifts. Kili, you may go.”  
“But I want to help!”  
Thorin raised his head, looking at his nephew clearly. Kili was visibly upset, the crease of his brow and worry in his eyes aging his normally youthful face, and Thorin felt guilty for brushing him off like a dwarfling. 

“Alright Kili. You stay with him. I should go help your mother see off our guests anyway. After that, I will take over. Oin?”  
“I'll be here, Your Majesty.”  
“Thank you. I won't be long.”

With that the king left, and Kili took up watch at Bilbo's side.

* * * * * 

“Where did you go?” Dis asked uneasily as Thorin took his place next to her.  
“Bilbo. He's taken up fever.”  
Dis turned to face him properly.  
“Is he alright?”  
Thorin gave her a sidelong glance.   
Dis sighed. “I would tell you to go to him, but you know these old pompous diplomats would be personally insulted if you were not to see them off yourself.”  
“Yes. I know.”

Just then they were approached by a golden haired elf.   
“King Thorin. Princess Dis,” the elf bowed as he greeted the dwarves. “My father and I offer you our condolences for your loss.”  
“We thank you, Prince Legolas.” Thorin said as he and Dis bowed their heads lightly in response. “I must admit, I am surprised to see you here, after the last disastrous attempt at peace between your kingdom and mine.”  
“I assure you, it took much convincing before my father would allow it.”  
“I appreciate the gesture, and look forward to working with you and your king to successfully bring peace between our people.”  
Legolas smiled warmly. “I too look forward to it, King Thorin.” 

“You see,” Thorin muttered to Dis as the elf left them, “not every elf is a gold hungry son of an orc.”  
“He may be fine enough, but he is still the son of an orc. That father of his is the most contemptible self righteous ass-”  
“Good evening, King Bard!” Thorin cut his sister off loudly before she started a war.

“Long live the king,” Bard replied somberly. “I am sorry to see you under such grim circumstances. I am sorry for your loss, King Thorin. Lady Dis.”  
He nodded his head respectfully as he addressed them.

“Thank you, my friend,” Thorin replied.   
Bard gave them a bow, and then he was off.

Thorin had always liked Bard. He was not afraid to speak his mind and he saw no need for idle chatter, always getting straight to the point. It made him easy for Thorin to get along with, no nonsense or posturing, and no head games. 

Thorin closed his eyes as a dull ache began at the base of his skull. He was entirely distracted with thoughts of the sick hobbit back in his rooms. His presence here felt like a complete waste of his time and the longer he was away from Bilbo, the more his head ached.

Dis took Thorin's hand, as he had begun to fidget anxiously.

“Steady Thorin, almost,” she murmured softly, giving his fingers a squeeze.  
The king appreciated his sister, obnoxious though she could sometimes be. She had always been supportive, and had helped him get through some of the most difficult moments of their lives. 

They had not gotten along when they were younger, and fought nearly constantly. Frerin had always been the peace keeper, the one they both were closest to. He kept them level, and kept Thorin and Dis from killing each other, truth be told. 

Losing their brother had shaken them, and Dis had taken it upon herself to be Thorin's rock thereafter. Until the death of the princes father. The roles reversed at that point, and Thorin had stepped in to help raise his nephews as Dis was overcome with grief. 

Thus, it was natural for the king to trust in his sister, and accept her comfort and steady presence at his side. 

Far too much time had passed, and Thorin's head was pounding. He was about to give in and just leave, responsibility and expectation be damned when a dark haired dwarf approached them. Thorin tensed and Dis's grip on his hand tightened.

“King Thorin,” the dwarf greeted in a mocking voice, “I'm sorry you weren't impressed with your gift. Every king needs a good slave.”

Dis placed her free hand on Thorin's arm as he clenched his jaw.  
“I do not take slaves, Bolorin. And you will pay for his injuries.”

The dwarf came a couple steps closer. “He was meant for your grandfather. King Thror would have seen the value in such a gift. That halfling was perfect. Soft and small enough to push around easily.”   
Bolorin sneered and leaned in a bit. “He is a comely creature, isn't he? Such soft hair and smooth skin....”

Dis's vice like arms wrapped around Thorin's chest as he lunged for Bolorin's face.

“What did you do to him?!” Thorin's voice was murderous.  
“Oh nothing. At least not what you're thinking. King Thror liked his slaves pure. Unspoiled. We just broke them down a bit. Made them more compliant.”

Dis tightened her grip as Thorin tried again to get at the Captain.  
“Enjoy that one. And if you decide you don't want him, I'll gladly take him off your hands for ya.”

Thorin shook in his rage as Bolorin retreated. Dis looked at her brother, concern marring her face. Thorin was nearly crawling out of his skin, torn between the urge to rip Bolorin's throat out, and the need to return to Bilbo. She squeezed Thorin's hand and gave him a reassuring smile.   
“Go to him.”  
“Dis, I cannot-”  
“You can. Go. Before you rip someone's head off. I'll see off the remaining guests. Most of them have left already anyway.”

Thorin gave her a questioning look, and she nodded reassuringly. He pulled her in for a crushing hug, placing a quick kiss on her head, then quickly left the room. His heart was pounding in his ears as he sped down the corridors, his breath accelerating with each step. He finally reached his rooms and threw himself through the door, flinging his robes from his shoulders.

“Has he woken?”  
“For a moment. We managed to get a little broth down him before he went back to sleep,” Kili answered proudly.  
“And his fever?”  
“It has let up, but only just,” Oin answered. “It will be a long night.”

Thorin nodded. “Kili, go get some sleep. We may need your help tomorrow.”  
Kili got up from the hobbits bedside and made his was over to Thorin. He looked up and wrapped his arms around his uncle, burying his face in thick black hair. Thorin brought a hand to Kili's head and pat him reassuringly.  
“He'll be alright, Kili. Thank you for looking after him.”

Kili pulled back and smiled halfheartedly, before heading off to bed.

“Get some sleep, Oin. I will take first watch.”  
Thorin didn't bother to see if the old dwarf obeyed, but instead pulled a chair to the edge of the bed, taking vigil at Bilbo's bedside. 

Thorin watched over Bilbo all through the night, keeping him as comfortable as possible as he oscillated between bone shaking chills and all consuming waves of heat. The hobbit's sleep was troubled, he tossed and turned as he fought through nightmares enhanced by his fever, and Thorin felt helpless to soothe him. 

The king watched with growing concern as the hobbit thrashed and whimpered through his fever. Thorin tried offering a comforting touch, to Bilbo's hand, his brow, but the hobbit only flinched away and groaned. He tried speaking to Bilbo softly, but it seemed to have no affect.

Many exhausting hours later, just before dawn, Thorin was nearly in tears with his inability to bring Bilbo comfort. It killed him to see the hobbit suffer and know there was no way to help him. 

Thorin was beside himself when he suddenly had an idea. He closed his eyes and started to hum. When he opened them, he was thrilled to see that Bilbo had stilled, and so he began to sing. He picked a soothing tune his mother had sung for him as a dwarfling, the same he had used to put Fili and Kili to bed when they were young. The hobbit relaxed as Thorin's deep timbre washed over him in calming waves, and so Thorin took up the next verse. 

When Bilbo had stilled completely, and his whimpers turned to soft snores, Thorin let out a deep sigh. He finally let his head drop to the mattress at the hobbit's side, and sleep overtook him.


	8. Chapter 8

It was late afternoon when Bilbo finally awoke. He felt as though he'd been trampled by a herd of livestock, and his mouth felt dry and tasted sour. He sat up slowly and immediately noticed Thorin in the chair at his bedside. The dwarf was slumped onto the bed, his head resting on folded arms upon the mattress. 

Bilbo stared at the sleeping form for a moment, unsure of what to think of this development. Thorin's face was peaceful in sleep, the usual furrow of his brow smooth, his hair a black halo about his head. Bilbo looked up from his assessment of the dwarf king, scanning the room, and his eyes landed on another dark haired dwarf sitting in the other chair before the hearth.

“Master Boggins, I'm glad to see you awake!” Kili stood as he greeted the hobbit and rushed to the bedside.   
“How long have I been sleeping?” Bilbo asked warily.   
“Just since yesterday afternoon. We were all pretty worried. Uncle hasn't left your side since last night.”  
Bilbo frowned. “Doesn't he have duties to tend to?”  
“After yesterday's ceremony, it won't be expected. Oh! I need to fetch Oin. He said to inform him immediately if you woke.”  
Bilbo nodded.  
“I'll be back in a moment!”

Kili left the room, slamming the door in his haste. Thorin jumped as the sound jarred him awake, and he froze as his eyes met Bilbo's. 

“Bil- Master Baggins. How do you feel?”  
“Horrible,” the hobbit answered flatly. He grinned at Thorin and let out a sigh.  
“And you can call me Bilbo, Your Highness. After spending the night at my bedside, I believe we are a bit familiar.”  
“Yes. I suppose so. But only if you return the favor.”

Bilbo quirked a smile. “You want me to call you Bilbo?”  
Thorin grinned back and shook his head.  
“You know what I mean.”  
“Being on a first name basis is a little different for a king, is it not?”  
Thorin looked away a bit sheepishly.   
“Not so much as you would think in this case,” he mumbled.

The door flew open, and Kili grinned widely at the two of them.   
“Oin should be here soon. Here, Master Boggins, he wants you to drink this.”  
The prince handed a glass of water to Bilbo, who took it gratefully, drinking it all at once. He handed back the empty glass as Oin entered the room.

“Decided to join us, have ya lad?” the healer quipped.  
“Yes, I suppose so,” Bilbo smiled half heartedly.  
“How do ya feel?”  
“Tired. My head hurts.”  
Oin nodded. “That's to be expected.”  
The healer shooed Thorin from the bedside, taking up his seat and placing a hand on the hobbit's forehead.  
“Seems the fever broke. Let's get at those bandages, lad. We'll start with the foot.”

Bilbo pulled the covers from his foot and Oin began to unwrap it.  
Thorin kept his distance, but watched as the wounds were revealed. There were three of them, red and angry against the hobbit's rough sole. They striped the width of his foot, as though he had stepped across three hot blades. 

Thorin felt his temper flaring, and he struggled greatly to contain it. His jaw clenched and he pinched his eyes shut and looked away, taking a deep steadying breath as Oin moved to start on the hobbits back. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo's voice pulled the dwarf out of his angry musings.  
“Would you...”  
Thorin sighed. “Yes. I'll leave.”

The king grabbed Kili by the sleeve and pulled him from the room, irritation radiating off of him in waves. 

“I believe I've upset him again,” Bilbo said softly.  
“He'll be fine, lad. But ya know none of us would judge ya by your mark.”  
“I suppose not. I'm just not used to letting it be seen. It makes me very uncomfortable to think about.”  
“No pressure, no pressure,” Oin said kindly as Bilbo turned his back and removed his shirt, careful to keep his mark covered.

The healer worked quickly, removing the old bandages and applying more salve, then wrapping the wounds again. 

“Another day of rest I think, lad,” Oin advised, “you should be up and around in no time.”

* * * * *

Thorin sat fuming, Dis and Kili on either side of him, and Fili in the chair off to the side, stuffing his face obliviously. The prince looked up and took in the set of his uncles jaw and the crease of his brow.   
“Why does everyone look so grim? I thought Master Baggins was on the mend?” Fili asked.  
“Oin is changing his bandages,” Kili answered uncertainly.  
“And that is upsetting because.....”  
Thorin huffed.  
“He made us leave?” Kili tried, shooting his uncle a questioning look.

Thorin huffed again and got up, grumbling as he began to pace. Kili and Fili looked to their mother, who sighed.  
“Your uncle foolishly feels responsible for Master Baggins wounds. And he finds it difficult to be separated from him.”  
Kili frowned at his uncle, confused, while Fili gave Thorin a sly grin.   
“Is that so?” the blond prince asked in amusement.

Thorin grimaced. Fili had always been more perceptive than his brother, and the look he was now giving Thorin told him his nephew was putting things together. And judging by the smirk on Dis's face, she was aware of just how much she had revealed to her eldest son. 

Perhaps Thror had been on to something, setting up chambers separate from his kin. 

“What's so funny?” Kili asked, giving his brother a questioning look.  
Fili's reply died on his lips as the healer came out of Thorin's room.  
“All fixed up! He's to rest today, and drink plenty of fluids. I'll be by again this evening to look in on him.”

Thorin was already stepping back into his room as the healer took his leave. 

Bilbo looked up as Thorin entered and offered him a small smile. Then he turned his head slightly, avoiding the kings gaze.

“I hope I don't offend you, when I ask you to leave like that.”   
Thorin was a bit taken aback by the statement, and it took him a moment to recover. It wasn't as though Bilbo had no right to privacy, he had every right to ask Thorin to leave when his wounds were being tended.   
“It is only because I don't understand,” Thorin finally admitted.

“What if I'm shy?”  
“I guess I hadn't considered that.”  
“And why does it offend you so, when I ask that you leave?”

Thorin blushed at the question, knowing he couldn't very well go telling Bilbo that the thought of leaving him for any reason pained him. The hobbit would not understand, and would probably insist on taking up different rooms thereafter.

“It doesn't. It's the thought of your wounds that upsets me. Their very existence is a reminder of the corruption I have yet to expel from my kingdom.”  
“Then maybe it is best you aren't present when Oin changes my bandages, if it upsets you so much.”  
Thorin frowned. Well that backfired.  
“I suppose so. Though I find it motivates me to make the necessary changes to better my kingdom.”

Bilbo sighed. “Alright. I won't ask you to leave any more. But you have to keep control of your anger. It's plain on your face every time you look at me. Even when the bandages are on, I see you grimace at every bruise and mark on my person. It is enough to make anyone feel quite self conscious.”

“I apologize, Bilbo. It was never my intent to make you uneasy. Dwarves are not known for their self control.”  
“I am quite aware. But you will have to learn to control yourself if you want me to stop sending you off when Oin comes.”  
“I promise to try.”

Thorin felt thoroughly chastised, and surprised with himself at how well he had agreed to the hobbits demands. For a royal who was used to giving orders rather than taking them, he was giving in to the hobbit quite easily.

“Thorin?” Dis's voice carried from the doorway.  
“What is it?”  
“Balin is here. He said it's urgent you meet with him in the council room.”  
“Thank you Dis.” Thorin turned back to the hobbit.

“I will only be gone for a few hours. I will have Bombur send up something to eat. Would you like Kili to keep you company while I'm gone?”  
“Oh yes, as long as it isn't a bother.”  
“I'm sure Kili would be pleased. He has become quite fond of you.”  
The two shared a smile, before Thorin took his leave.

“Dis,” Thorin addressed his sister as he entered the sitting room, “I would like you to accompany me.”  
“Oh?”  
“I respect your insight, and your help with any official business would be greatly appreciated.”

 

* * * * *

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Majesties.” Balin addressed the already seated Thorin and Dis as he and Dwalin entered the council room.  
“I did not expect you to get here so fast. I know it is customary for the kingdom to shut down all official business for a full day after a kings memorial service, but I knew you would not want to wait.”  
Balin frowned as he glanced at Thorin, who was staring at the table with a most vacant expression.

“Thorin? Thorin?!”  
The king looked up at Balin's concerned face.  
“What's on your mind lad? You're certainly distracted.”  
“It's nothing. Nothing.”

Balin's face grew even more concerned as Dis smirked and turned away from her brother. Dwalin met the princess's eye, and the two shared a knowing look.

Dwalin huffed an amused chuckle. “His mind is focused elsewhere. On a beardless face and big hairy feet.”  
Balin frowned and glanced back and forth between his brother and his king.  
“Are you still worried for the hobbit? I thought he was doing better today.”  
“He is.” Thorin's voice was impatient as he scratched his beard irritatedly.  
“Then what-”

Thorin sighed and pressed his hands against the pounding at his temples. The headache was returning and he knew it would be like this every time he was away from Bilbo. Though at this point, there was nothing to be done about it.

Dis elbowed Thorin's arm. “You may as well tell them.”

Thorin sighed again and dropped his hands to the table loudly. “He is my One.”

“The hobbit? When did this happen?” Balin asked in shock.

“The night of his arrival.”

Balin's eyebrows disappeared in his hairline.  
“No wonder you've been so distracted of late! You must begin to bond with him immediately!”  
“Balin, I can't. Not yet. He won't understand, and it is too soon for him to trust me. I must go at his speed.”  
“Lad, you've got to tell him.”  
“I will. When he's well.”

Balin frowned in disapproval, but didn't press the matter.

“Well, it may be a bit premature, but I'm happy for ya!” Dwalin clapped Thorin on the back heartily.   
Thorin gave him a half smile, but it came off as more of a grimace as the jolt aggravated his already pounding head.

“So why are we here, Balin?” Dis changed the subject quickly, noticing Thorin's discomfort.  
“I was approached this morning by an archer. An archer who witnessed some of the crimes against the hobbit,” the white haired dwarf answered.

Thorin was suddenly alert, his full attention on his advisor.  
“And what information did he have to share?” the king asked eagerly.

“He wanted to meet with you himself. He should be here any minute now.”

Dis, Dwalin, and Balin began discussing the suspected officers, but Thorin was quickly lost in his own mind. There was a rushing in his ears and his head pounded even more fiercely as he mulled over Bilbo's wounds and wondered which officer was responsible for each one. His anger flared anew as he determined what he'd like to do to each and every dwarf who had laid a hand... or boot or sword... on his hobbit. 

Thorin was pulled from his thoughts of vengeance by the pointed clearing of a throat.  
“Thorin?” Dis's voice called to him.  
He looked up and saw a very nervous looking dwarf standing at the other side of the table. The archer was young, his beard not much longer than Kili's. He must have come of age not a year or two past. The young dwarf fidgeted under Thorin's scrutiny, twisting his fingers and chewing his lip in fear. 

“What is your name, archer?” Thorin queried.  
“With-with all due respect Your Highness, I would rather not reveal it. Just my being here makes me a target.”  
“For who?” Balin got right to business.  
The archer squirmed at the question.  
“Alright, why don't you just share what you have come here to tell us?” Thorin asked gently.

The archer took a deep breath, steadying himself a bit.  
“I was not there when the hobbit was taken. I was just another archer in the ranks for most of the journey. It was my first assignment outside of Erebor. I didn't want to have anything to do with...” he shifted his feet uncomfortably.   
“Get on with it, lad!” Dwalin grumbled, earning himself a warning look from Dis and Balin.

“I kept to the outside camps, away from the officers. Except one night.”  
“What happened?” Dis asked softly, her gentle tone putting the young archer at ease.  
“Lieutenant Nuk. He was with an officer I didn't recognize, one of the soldier lieutenants. I was just passing through camp, on my way to relieve myself.”

“And what were they doing?” Thorin's voice was strained in his eagerness.   
“It was dark, and I couldn't see clearly, but they seemed to be repetitively kicking a figure on the ground. I believe it was the hobbit. They were laughing and joking. Nuk said something about having to break him in.”

Thorin slammed his fists on the table as he shot up from his chair, sending it crashing noisily to the ground. He turned and began pacing agitatedly behind the table, running his hands through his hair and muttering angrily under his breath.

Dis turned from watching her brother worriedly to address the dwarf before them.  
“Thank you, for coming forward. I can see this was not easy for you.”  
“I only wish to do the right thing, My Lady. I don't mean any offense, but King Thror's armies have been held too long by tyrants.”  
“Indeed they have,” Dwalin grumbled.   
“You may go, lad,” Balin dismissed the archer and turned to face Thorin. 

“Well, that's one officer named. And we know there is at least one other guilty lieutenant.”

Thorin nodded grimly. “We need more.” 

He turned and stormed out of the room without another word, his hands buried in his hair as he massaged his aching head. Instinct took over, driving his feet ever closer to his rooms as the scene played in his minds eye. Bilbo, curled in on himself in the dark of night, dealt blow after blow to his ribs and side by the boot of that damned officer. An unknown dwarf watching on. Laughing. Joking while he.....

Thorin looked up and realized he was already standing at the door to the royal chambers. His hands were shaking, and he struggled to gain some semblance of control over his temper before entering. The pounding in his skull had already lessened with his proximity to his One, and it helped Thorin to calm himself more effectively. He listened at the door, Bilbo's voice from within soothing him further, and finally, he managed to relax. 

Kili and Bilbo looked up from the couch as Thorin entered.   
“Hello, Thorin. Everything alright?” the hobbit said in greeting.  
“Yes, everything is fine.”  
“What did Balin need then?” Bilbo asked lightly.

Thorin hesitated a bit, then decided the best course would be to go ahead and tell him.   
“An archer has come forward. As a witness.”  
“Oh.” Bilbo froze at the statement, eyes trained on Thorin's.   
“So... so you're going to find them. My captors.”  
Thorin nodded.   
“Yes. I intend to.” 

* * * * *

Fili had just left the dining hall, and was wandering back to his rooms. He was mulling over his recent conversation with Balin over the evening meal. The old dwarf had suggested he sit in on Thorin's official meetings from then on. Court would be reconvening once Thorin had been crowned, and as Fili was heir, Balin thought it would be good for him to attend that as well. 

The prince was nervous at the realization that now he was next in line, he would be expected to take on more responsibility. The thought hadn't occurred to him, until that very evening, and he was surprised at himself for not realizing it sooner. 

Fili frowned at the ground, as he walked along, mulling things over and wondering the new responsibilities he may have. He stopped and his frown deepened as he noticed a rust colored stain on the stone floor. He stared at it and puzzled for a moment, before his brain caught up with him. 

Blood. There was a trail of it. He followed with growing urgency until the trail ended at the door of a storeroom. Fili reached out a shaky hand, and pulled the door open.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you again to everyone following, leaving kudos, and leaving wonderful comments. I'm pretty amazed that so many people are enjoying this fic so much. Thank you thank you thank you!!!
> 
> This fic started out as a simple idea, but as I get further and further into it, I'm realizing it is becoming a monster. Sometimes it's a bit overwhelming, looking at how much I have to try to put into words. It's tempting in those moments to just slap my ideas down and post them without putting much thought into it, but your encouragement has pushed me to continue giving this fic the time and thoroughness it needs. 
> 
> You are wonderful and I appreciate each and every one of you!!! Enjoy!!

Fili ran through the halls in a panic, heading to find his uncle, but as luck would have it, he ran into Balin first.

“Slow down, lad!” Balin grabbed the prince by the elbows and looked him over in concern. The prince was pale, and his hands were trembling as he grasped at the sleeves of Balin's robes. “What's happened? You look terrible!” 

“It's- there's... a body,” Fili's voice wavered as he spoke.  
Balin's eyes narrowed. “Show me.”

* * * * *

Thorin stood before the hearth in the sitting room, one hand braced on the mantle, the other over his eyes. His mouth was set in a thin line, making him look much older than Balin knew him to be. The advisor's face was grim, as he assessed his king and prince, and the anger he felt at someone so carelessly taking the life of one so young was reflected on Thorin's half hidden face.

Thankfully, Kili and Bilbo had long since gone off to bed before a furious Balin and frightfully pale Fili had stumbled into the royal chambers. Better to spare the younger prince and still fragile hobbit from this grim news for the time being. Now Balin and Fili sat side by side on the couch, watching Thorin grow more and more agitated with every moment that passed.

“It was him, Your Highness. The archer we spoke with earlier,” Balin told the king gravely.

“Someone didn't appreciate his coming to us.” Thorin slid his hand down to cup his chin, then dropped it roughly to his side before turning to face his friend and advisor.   
“Is Nori on the case?” 

“Yes. I notified him just before I came to you. Though I doubt there will be much to find. Anyway, we both know this was most likely the work of the officers we are already investigating.”

Thorin nodded, rubbing at his beard thoughtfully. Then he shifted his gaze to his shaken heir sitting on the couch. “Fili, are you alright?”   
The blond prince swallowed dryly a few times, mulling over his troubled thoughts.  
“It is not as though I have never seen death. But it's different when you are not expecting it,” the prince murmured, glancing up at his uncle with haunted eyes. “He was so young. How could anyone be so dishonorable? He was not much younger than I.”

Thorin went to his nephew, dropping down at the young dwarfs side.  
“I know. I'm sorry it had to be you to find him.” The king wrapped his arm around Fili and allowed him to burrow his head under Thorin's chin. 

It was easy for Thorin to forget, sometimes, how young his nephews were. Though they were both of age, they were still very inexperienced with the cruelties of the world.   
“We'll get you an ale. It'll help calm your nerves.”

* * * * *

When Thorin finally settled on to the lounge that had become his bed, he was far too exhausted to think. As full and busy as his mind was, his thoughts were muddled and all ran together. He scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned a bit, rolling over onto his side. He hadn't even bothered to change into sleep clothes, and even fell asleep with his boots on. 

It was not long after Thorin had drifted off that the groaning began across the room. Bilbo cried out in his sleep, his dreams getting all the more violent. Thorin shook himself and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinked owlishly at the form thrashing in his bed across the room. He quickly stood and made his way across the stone floor as Bilbo's whimpers became more urgent. He tossed off his boots before sitting himself on the edge of the bed. The hobbits pleas made Thorin cringe and it took a moment for him to find his voice. 

As soon as Thorin took up the soothing tune from the night before, Bilbo began to settle. His cries quieted into little sighs and his body stilled under the blankets. The kings heart warmed to see that even though he could not touch him, he could still comfort his hobbit. He smiled to himself as Bilbo drifted into a more peaceful sleep. When his song had ended and his eyelids were falling, Thorin could not find the strength to stand, and so he laid across the foot of the bed, asleep before his head hit the blankets.

* * * * *

“Thorin?”  
The dwarf's head felt thick with the fog of sleep as Bilbo's voice tickled at the edges of his consciousness. His eyelids were impossibly heavy, and he frowned as he tried in vain to lift them. When finally his body began to cooperate with his minds demands, he managed to sluggishly blink.  
“Mmm?” was all he could manage, as his tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“I woke you again in the night. I may have to take Oin up on that elixir.”

Thorin cleared his throat roughly and looked up at the hobbit leaning over him.  
“My mother always said that dreams are our minds way of processing. Perhaps it is essential that you go through these dreams,” Thorin said kindly.

Bilbo glanced at him sidelong. “I would really rather not.”  
“I can imagine so. I am sorry you have to endure this.”  
The hobbit shrugged. “Not your fault.”

Bilbo threw the covers off and planted his feet on the floor.   
“I suppose I should bathe before Oin shows. He'll want to apply fresh bandages, I'm sure.”   
With that, he picked out some clothes from the wardrobe by the bed and went off to take his bath. 

Thorin tilted his head back over the bedside to watch the hobbit go, unable to keep his eyes from drinking in the tempting sight of Bilbo in his night shirt. The daylight played with the golden strands in his hair, and his movement as he made his way across the room caused his curls to tickle the delicate points of his ears. His night shirt clung to his form quite becomingly, and Thorin was pleased to see the hobbit was just beginning to fill out as he should.

This was dangerous ground. Thorin shook his head, trying in vain to clear the image from his mind. He changed his clothes and combed his hair, focusing intently on the mundane tasks to keep his mind from wandering to the hobbit in the other room. He looked up when the bathroom door opened, and a smiling and damp Bilbo came walking out, honeyed curls wet and mussed carelessly, skin still glowing slightly damp in the firelight, a Durin blue tunic setting off the flecks of gold in those hazel eyes. Bilbo smiled warmly, an expression that left the dwarf weak in the knees. 

Thorin closed his eyes and groaned.

Bilbo stopped and leveled the dwarf with a curious look. “Is everything alright?”   
Thorin snapped his eyes open again, and attempted to appear a bit more composed.   
“Yes. Everything is... fine. I'm afraid I will miss breakfast. I am meeting with the guild masters today.”  
“Oh. Well perhaps I will break my fast with Kili!” 

Thorin managed a weak grin as he opened the door to leave. He glanced back over his shoulder at the hobbit.  
“Enjoy yourself, Bilbo. I will be back for lunch.” 

With that, Thorin stepped out, closing the door gently behind him. He leaned back against it for a moment, letting his head drop back against the stone. He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. This arrangement was only going to get more difficult for Thorin, but he couldn't imagine Bilbo staying elsewhere. His brothers old rooms were vacant, and would allow Bilbo to stay in the royal quarters, but the thought of the hobbit being in another room in the night sent Thorin into near panic. 

No, Thorin would just have to keep himself in check. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few steadying breaths, willing his aroused state to calm. 

“Uncle?”  
That did it.  
Thorin looked up as Fili approached, glad for the distraction.   
“Balin suggested I accompany you to your meeting today.”  
“That is a good idea. I was just heading off.”

Thorin strode across the room and out into the hall and Fili kept pace easily beside him.   
“So, how is Master Baggins?”  
Thorin groaned. Damn his sister and her big mouth.  
“He is fine.”  
“He is quite fine, yes. But how is he feeling?”  
“Dammit Fili.”  
Obviously Fili was not letting his gruesome discovery of the previous night burden him. The blond laughed at his uncles discomfort and struggled to keep up as Thorin picked up his pace. The desired affect was achieved, as the speed Thorin was keeping did not leave Fili with enough breath to hassle him further. 

They reached the council room in relative silence, and Fili had to catch his breath before he could even greet Balin properly. Thorin smirked at him smugly as he took up his seat next to Balin and Fili scowled in response. 

“Ready lad?” Balin asked Thorin pointedly.  
“I suppose so. I don't see why this couldn't wait until after my coronation.” He looked at Balin with a frown. “Isn't it a bit unseemly for me to be acting as king without the official title?”  
“The kingdom must continue to move forward, Your Highness. And everyone already sees you as king. The coronation is simply a formality at this point.”  
Thorin leaned back in his seat and relaxed his hands on the arms of his chair.  
“Alright then. Gloin? Let them in,” Thorin called to the guard. 

The door opened and five eager dwarves filed into the room. Each found a chair to stand behind and awaited their kings orders.

“Sit.” Thorin commanded. The dwarves bowed their heads lightly, then took their seats. Thorin noticed the division of the group, Bombur and two other dwarves sat next to each other, leaving two empty chairs between themselves and the other two dwarves.   
“Now, who has called this meeting?”

“We have, Yer Highness,” a smiling dark haired dwarf answered, “the three of us here.”  
The dwarf gestured with his flapping hat in his hands to Bombur and the other dwarf.   
“And your name?” Balin asked him.  
“Bofur, sir.”  
“I don't remember you being a guild master when I last attended one of these meetings.”  
“No sir. Just was assigned the position a month ago. My brother Bombur here put in a good word for me.”

“So you're the new Mining Guild Master. Well met, Master Bofur,” Thorin nodded in acknowledgment. “And what is it the three of you wanted to bring to our attention?”

“Well Your Highness, to get right to the point, we would like you to look over the taxes implemented on our guild members. King Thror raised them severely a few months back, and our members are having a very hard time making a living, between that and raised tariffs from the nobles” the third dwarf answered.

“Tell them to quit bickering! Grow a backbone, Malik!” One of the dwarves on the other end of the table hollered.   
The guild masters all leaped to their feet, yelling and arguing, raising fists and pointing fingers accusingly at one another.

Thorin stood abruptly. “SILENCE!”  
The room instantly stilled.   
“Next one to interrupt gets thrown from my council room. Tabor, Damir, the two of you do not find the raised tax to be an issue?”  
“No your highness, our guild members have not come to us with any complaints.”  
Damir's voice raised the hairs on the back of Thorin's neck. He was Lieutenant Tamir's brother, and Thorin couldn't help but to hate him by association.

“If I may, Your Highness. We believe the reason these two are not in agreement is because they have been pocketing much of the extra tax collected,” Malik responded.

Thorin sighed. “And is it your belief that my grandfather was aware of this?”  
“Yes, Your Highness. We believe he made the arrangement himself,” Bombur answered.

“Alright. I will look in to these matters and we will address them when I have decided what will be done. You are all excused,” Thorin dismissed them aggravatingly, rubbing his now pounding head.

The Guild Masters rose, bowed to the king, and quickly dispersed.  
“That went well,” Fili said in amusement, “you really have your work cut out for you, don't you uncle.”  
“What do you mean? You will be helping me. You will start by following Balin to the hall of records and helping him search for the paperwork regarding the tax raise and any paperwork regarding raised tariffs.”

“But- I... What about lunch?”  
“Go eat lunch, then meet Balin in the hall. Now off with you.”

Fili stood indignantly, huffing as he left the room.  
“Are you alright?” Balin asked Thorin softly. “Tamir's brother seems cut from the same stone as he.”  
“Yes he does. I don't trust him, and I don't like him.”  
“Of course you don't. Now head back for lunch with your hobbit. I know your head must be pounding.”

Thorin smiled as he stood and followed Balin out of the room, then they headed separate ways at the door.

Thorin brooded as he made his way back to the royal chambers. He would have to replace half the Guild Masters, half of Erebor's army officers, and develop his council. How in Mahal's name was he going to figure out who he could trust? He knew half the nobles were as bad as his grandfather had been. Thorin's head throbbed as he contemplated the task before him. He reached the door to the royal chambers, Dwalin and Gloin ever present at his back, when he heard giggling from within. 

Thorin furrowed his brow in puzzlement, pushing the heavy door open. He looked to the hearth, where Dis and Kili sat, completely enthralled with a surprisingly animated hobbit obviously lost in the telling of a most amusing tale. 

Thorin smiled and quietly approached the group. He lowered himself onto the cushion next to his sister, pleased to note that the hobbit's eyes widened slightly and a light pink dusted the apples of his cheeks and tips of his ears as he noticed Thorin watching him.

“What happened next, Master Boggins?!” Kili asked excitedly.  
“Oh! They awoke in Farmer Maggots field, and neither ever saw their best trousers again!”

The end of the tale was met with an eruption of laughter from Thorin's nephew, and even his sister chuckled lightly behind a dainty hand. “Thank you, Master Baggins, for sharing your most entertaining stories. Kili and I will be heading to lunch, but perhaps we shall see you again this evening.”

Dis rose from the couch, planting a kiss on Thorin's cheek, and beckoned her son to follow her out of the royal chambers. 

The click of the latch echoed strangely in the suddenly silent room. 

Bilbo fidgeted a bit, unable to look at Thorin for too long.  
“Are you alright Thorin? You seem a little tense,” he asked uncertainly.

“The meeting with the Guild Masters was not the most enjoyable. I'm sorry. My emotions seem to run away with me more often than usual lately.”  
“Loss will do that,” Bilbo responded softly. “I can imagine trying to take over a kingdom so soon after losing a family member cannot be easy.”  
Thorin nodded grimly.  
“Would you like to talk about it?” Bilbo asked gently.  
“Perhaps.” There was a knock at the door. “Perhaps we can discuss it over lunch.”

Thorin rose and fetched the tray, depositing it carefully on the dining table. When the table was set and both hobbit and dwarf sat quite comfortably with full plates, the two continued their conversation.

“So, tell me about your grandfather, Thorin,” Bilbo urged.  
Thorin sighed and frowned at the table, pondering where to begin.  
“Thror was a good king, some time ago. A loving father and grandfather, a doting husband.”  
Bilbo smiled as the dwarf spoke, excited to hear more of Thorin's family.  
“I remember going with he and my father to council meetings, trade meetings, anything they would let me attend. I always enjoyed being with them, no matter what they were doing. And my brother, Frerin, he was too young, but he always tried to get in anyway.” Thorin grinned at the memory.   
“And Dis? What was she like back then?” Bilbo asked eagerly.

“Dis?” Thorin's smile grew and he shook his head. “Dis was a hand full, and too smart for her own good. Always thought she knew better than my brother and I. She usually did. But don't tell her I said that.”

Bilbo and Thorin chuckled lightly at that, then Thorin's smile fell.  
“She grew up quickly after we lost Frerin. Mother and father never recovered from the loss. Mother stopped eating. Speaking. Her grief consumed her, and eventually took her life. Then once we had grown, Dis was married, and happy for a time. Before she knew it she had lost her husband. Grandfather had fallen to gold sickness.” Thorin shook his head. “Nothing has been right since.”

Bilbo placed a tentative hand on Thorin's larger one atop the table. Thorin was warmed by the gentle touch, and the contact with Bilbo's soft skin caressed and soothed the dull ache left by their unfinished bond. He sighed with the relief of it, then raised his gaze to meet Bilbo's.

“Loss is never easy. But we both know it does get better with time,” Bilbo said with a soft smile.  
Thorin beamed at the hobbit, and the two fell in to a comfortable silence as they went back to their meal. 

A knock on the door had Thorin on his feet, and he opened it to a severe looking Nori.  
“Sorry to bother you during lunch, Your Highness, but I thought you should have the latest,” the spy said as he sauntered right past Thorin and made himself comfortable in a seat at the table. He propped his feet on the table ledge, taking up an apple from the tray, and bit into it as he gave Bilbo a calculating look.

The hobbit shrunk under such scrutiny, his gaze shifting uncomfortably from Thorin to the shrewd looking dwarf across the table.   
“Master Baggins, this is Nori. You need not fear him. He is looking into... some things for me.”

Nori raised an eyebrow and glanced at Thorin.  
“Yes. Well, I have news of such... things.”  
Thorin nodded his understanding. “Bilbo, would you please excuse us for a moment?”  
The hobbit nodded as the king and the star haired dwarf relocated themselves in Thorin's bed chambers.

“So, that was your hobbit,” Nori said in amusement as Thorin closed the door behind them.  
“Yes. What of him?” Thorin's voice was defensive, a note of challenge in his tone.  
Nori held his hands up in surrender. “Nothing, nothing! I've never seen one before.”  
Thorin's stance eased just a touch into a slightly more casual hold as he came to sit by the fire.  
“I can see why you're so determined for revenge. Looks like someone tried to squeeze the life from him.”  
Thorin clenched his fists. “I do not seek revenge. I seek justice.”  
Nori gave him an amused glance. “Right. Well at any rate, the mountain is abuzz with rumor of the recent murder.”  
“And what is the word?”  
“It's a toss up. Half the mountain thinks it was the work of our guilty party of soldiers. The other half thinks it was you.”

Thorin was taken aback at the statement. He shook his head and gave Nori an incredulous look.  
“Me? They think I had that archer killed?”  
Nori nodded. “The argument is that you would want to protect your grandfathers most loyal soldiers. Of course, that is met with the question of why you would be making such strong inquiries against them, if that was what you wanted. So the thought is that perhaps, you are trying to flush out and pick off those who will not be corrupted.”

Thorin frowned as he contemplated this.   
“Your people are uneasy, My King. The guilty party must be identified and punished, so there is no doubt what your intentions are.”  
“I would tell you to be cautious, giving your king orders. But you are correct. There are only a few days until my coronation. I must have my answers by then. Thank you, Nori.”  
Nori gave a bow of his head before walked off, leaving a troubled Thorin to sit by the fire, lost in his thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well what can I say that I haven't already? I appreciate every one of you!  
> Enjoy!

It was even more difficult, leaving Bilbo that afternoon, and the headache hit Thorin before he had even closed the door. He rubbed his temples in agitation as he began to make his way to the hall of records. He moved quickly, dodging nobles and avoiding conversation to lessen the throb of his head.

“If you spoke with Oin, I am sure he would give you something to ease your pain.”  
Thorin jumped as Dis's voice hit him as if from nowhere.  
He gave her a scowl.  
“Yes yes, let's just announce it to every dwarrow in the mountain.”  
Dis gave him an affronted look.  
“Are you embarrassed that you are destined to a hobbit?” His sister sounded outraged by the very thought.  
“No, but I do believe it would be best to keep this a secret until at least Bilbo is aware of it.”  
“And you are telling him when.....?”

Thorin groaned. “I will tell him when I damn well think the time is right, Dis!”  
His sister leveled him with a scowl that rivaled his own.

“I'm sorry. There is much on my mind and these headaches make me a bit-”  
“Of an ass?” Dis tried.  
Thorin smirked. “Yes. They are making an ass of me.”  
Dis sighed. “I will go speak with Oin. An ass you may be, but you cannot hope to run your kingdom so impaired.”

Thorin rubbed at his forehead as Dis retreated down the hall. He turned the corner and pushed open the door to the hall of records. 

Fili sat on the floor, surrounded by piles of leather bound books and stacks of loose parchment. A large book sat open in his lap, though, judging by the fact that his eyes were closed, Fili wasn't really getting anywhere with the pages before him. He sat with an elbow on one knee, his cheek resting on a closed fist, smooshing up the side of his face as he snored quietly. 

Balin sat at the desk near the wall, leafing through papers with a disgruntled look about him.  
“Any luck?” Fili jumped, sending his book to the ground with a thud as Thorin's voice echoed against the stone.  
Balin chuckled lightly as he looked up at the prince, then he shifted his gaze to Thorin and let out a telling sigh. 

“No, laddie. It seems your grandfather went through a lot of trouble to cover his deals.”  
“I was afraid of that.” Thorin huffed in frustration. “How am I supposed to determine what should be done when I have no idea where anything is or what tax is set for whom?” He folded his arms over his chest as he scowled at the stacks on the desk, as though they had done him a great insult.

Balin stood and put a reassuring hand on the kings shoulder.  
“Your grandfather has done us a favor. If it's not written down, it doesn't exist. We will draw up new tax laws and set our own amounts at a fair rate. We don't need records to do that.”

Thorin nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  
“That will be the next task, then, Balin. Draw up a proposition for the guilds. I will look over it when you are finished, and we will bring it before the guild masters at a later date.”  
Thorin dropped his hand and turned to his heir.  
“Fili? What have you learned today?”

“Great grandfather was a piss poor record keeper?” the blond tried in a strained voice as he stretched the sleep from his muscles.  
Thorin chuckled. “Well, there is that. You are dismissed. Balin and I have a meeting.”

Fili jumped up gratefully and hurried from the room.  
“Captain Gilda?” Balin asked.  
“Captain Gilda.”

* * * * *

The Captain stood waiting outside the council chamber when Thorin and Balin approached. She stood at attention, hands behind her back, and saluted Thorin with a hand to the heart as he came closer. 

“At ease, Captain,” Thorin said as he opened the chamber door. “Come. We have much to discuss.”  
He followed Balin and the captain into the room and took up his seat at the head of the stone table.  
“Please, sit.”  
Captain Gilda pulled out her chair and took a seat, folding her hands neatly on the table before her.

Gilda had held the position as Captain Archer for longer than Thorin could remember. She was strict, and she was fair, and she was close to being fired before Thror's death. Her hair was nearly all silver, though there were some streaks where the dark brown of her youth was still visible. It was braided intricately back in two matching braids at the sides of her head, beads of silver laced throughout. Her eyes were a chocolate brown, and full of the wisdom that comes with such age and experience in the army. The wrinkles around her eyes and deep set furrows over her heavy brow gave her the appearance of a permanent frown.

“Captain Gilda, I have called you here to discuss your lieutenants,” Thorin said formally.  
The captain shifted a bit, and Thorin could see she was nervous behind her tough exterior.  
“And what would you like to discuss, My King?”  
“What can you tell me of your lieutenants, particularly Glormur and Nuk?”  
“Well, they... are.... experienced,” Gilda tried uncertainly.  
Thorin exchanged a meaningful look with Balin.

“Captain, we do not seek to interrogate you. In fact, we intend to seek your assistance in ridding our armies of corrupt officers.”  
The dwarrowdam visibly relaxed a bit at the clarification.  
“It would not surprise me if those two were involved in the capture of that hobbit. Or the murder of that poor young archer,” she began.  
“Why is that?” Thorin pressed.  
“They were favorites of our late king. He.... approved of the capture of other races. That is how they obtained his favor.” Gilda glanced up at him nervously. “I mean no offense or disrespect, Your Highness.”

Thorin held up a reassuring hand. “None taken, Captain. I know of my grandfathers misdeeds, and you can take heart in knowing I do not condone such behavior.”

Captain Gilda nodded. “I'm glad to hear that, My King. Is there any other way I can help?”  
“Any information we can gather regarding the soldiers and officers could be useful. It will be a long process, bringing our armies back to good standards.”

“I would like to request permission to begin purging my ranks and replacing those I do not trust.”  
“Granted. With an exception of your lieutenants. I would ask you to wait on their replacement until after the sentencing.”  
“Thank you Your Highness.”  
She looked at her hands as a deep sorrow overcame her features, deepening the lines of her face and clouding her eyes.  
“And the young archer?”  
“We are doing everything we can to find his killers.”

Gilda's face grew hard. “You know who did this.”  
Thorin sighed. “I have my suspicions, but I cannot act before I have any sort of evidence. Did you know him? The archer.”  
“Yes. He was one of my most promising recruits. He'd only been with my ranks for two years.”  
“I am sorry, Captain. I do not take the loss of a youth lightly. Be assured that I will bring his killers to justice.”  
Captain Gilda nodded solemnly. 

“Thank you, Captain. Please let me know if you find any other information that may be useful.”

Captain Gilda rose and bowed respectfully, before taking her leave.  
“Well, that did give us a little insight,” Balin said cheerfully.  
“But nothing concrete. Perhaps it is time we question our suspects.”  
“I believe that would be an excellent idea. I will write up a summons.”

* * * * *

Thorin quickly made his way through the halls, the pounding in his head now at an unbearable level. He hardly registered the dwarves he passed as he rushed towards his rooms, nearly colliding with Dis as he reached the door.

“I spoke with Oin. He is making a tonic to help with your headaches, it will be ready by tomorrow. For now, he suggests spending as much time as possible with Master Baggins, until you stop being an absolute fool and offer a bond.”  
Thorin groaned and pulled open the door, sidestepping his sister as he entered. 

Bilbo was sat next to Kili, and Thorin was pleased to see him comfortably lounging on the furniture. The hobbit smiled as he saw him, and the pain in Thorin's head subsided. 

“Thorin!”  
The king beamed at the hobbit's obvious joy in his return, and he quickly moved to sit next to him.  
“You look a fair sight better than you did when you left this afternoon.”

Dis smiled knowingly at her brother before ruffling Kili's hair.  
“Kili, why don't we find your brother and head down to the Dining Hall.”  
Kili nodded and got up. “Good evening, Master Baggins, Uncle.”  
Thorin and Bilbo nodded as the prince followed his mother out.

“How was your afternoon?” Thorin asked Bilbo casually.  
“It was wonderful! Kili was telling me a bit about the elves of the Greenwood. They seem fascinating.”  
Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Fascinating?”  
Bilbo nodded enthusiastically.  
“Elves have always fascinated me. I've read much about them, even managed to learn a bit of Sindarin myself.” Bilbo smiled proudly as Thorin tried hard not to grimace.  
“And how was your day?” the hobbit asked.

Thorin sighed and his face dropped just a bit. “Long.”  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
“My grandfather has made a right mess of this kingdom.”  
“What happened with the guild masters this morning?”  
“They are requesting a review of their taxes. A request, as it turns out, I cannot fulfill, as there are no records.”

Bilbo frowned. “No records? How could that happen?”  
“I believe my grandfather intended to leave no paper trail. Three of the guild masters are accusing the others of getting to pocket some of that money. Probably an agreement my grandfather made so they wouldn't complain of the tax raise.”

“That sounds frustrating.”  
“Quite. But it makes my job easy. Balin is writing up a proposition, and we will present it to the guild masters later.”

Bilbo nodded. “How many guilds are there?”  
“There are five main guilds, the smaller ones govern themselves fairly well, and I don't meet with them much.”  
“Can you tell me about the larger ones?”  
Thorin grinned a little at the hobbit's curiosity.  
“Certainly. There is the Mining Guild, for those who work Erebor's mines. Their guild master Bofur is new. I don't know much about him, but he seems of a good sort. He is Bombur's brother. Bombur is the Culinary Guild master. Those would be the cooks and chefs who work and have shops in Erebor's kitchens. There's the Manufacturing Guild, for those who work the forges. They get their materials from the Mining Guild and are responsible for more than half of Erebor's trade. Damir is their guild master.”

“And what is he like?”  
“A snake,” Thorin's voice hardened.  
Bilbo glanced at him nervously.  
“A- And the others?”  
Thorin winced inwardly at the hobbit's suddenly guarded tone.  
“The Textile Guild and the Hunting Guild.”  
Bilbo nodded.  
“Textile Guild makes all of the clothes. They have shops in Erebor's marketplace, as do most of the members from the other guilds. Tabor is their master. I don't know much about him. Malik is in charge of the Hunting Guild. They do most of their business with the Culinary Guild.”

“And, the Guild Masters are in charge of.... all guild members?”  
“Yes. They accept new guild members, monitor standards, and collect taxes from their members, which they pay monthly at our Guild Meeting. That is where any issues or requests are brought to the king.”  
“Interesting.”  
Thorin chuckled. “If you think so.”

The evening meal was uneventful, Thorin listening easily as Bilbo spoke of his garden and parents, grateful that the hobbit was opening up and seeming to feel more at home. He watched Bilbo with a growing smile, and for the first time in what felt like an age, he was content and at ease.

* * * * *

Thorin woke again the next morning to the hobbit's whimpers. He got up on instinct, rubbing his eyes as he made his way across the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, and was surprised when Bilbo didn't cower away when the weight of Thorin's body on the mattress caused him to roll into the dwarf's side. 

Thorin held his breath as Bilbo began calling out again. Against his better judgment, he settled his hand lightly on Bilbo's head, stroking his hair gently.  
Bilbo shouted and jumped, grasping Thorin's hand and yanked him down, wrapping his arms and legs around the surprised dwarf. 

Dwarf and hobbit stared at each other in shock for a few moments as Bilbo's sleep addled mind caught up with his body. His eyes widened and a blush stole over his face as their position registered to him. 

“Th-Th-Thorin! Oh my... I am so sorry.”  
“Don't be.” Thorin smiled at him sleepily, then closed his eyes and swallowed, struggling to control the affect the hobbit was having on him. Bilbo's warm breath tickled Thorin's skin as it blew softly across his throat, and the feel of the hobbits chest pressed flush against his own set his heart rate up to an unhealthy pace. 

“Are you going to let me go?” Thorin's voice was soft and teasing, a low rumble in his chest that Bilbo felt against his own. Bilbo stared up into heavily lidded eyes, then subconsciously licked his lips as Thorin's gaze flickered down.  
“Oh! Oh yes yes!” the hobbit scrambled to put some distance between them, flustered and embarrassed.

Thorin closed his eyes and willed his body to calm itself from the state the hobbits closeness had put it in. Oh, but it had been nice, having Bilbo wrapped around him like that. He turned to look at the hobbit, and found him staring at him openly. Bilbo blushed an even more furious shade of red, and Thorin turned his head to hide the amused grin that stole his features.

“I suppose I'll.... just go.... to the bath then....” Bilbo spluttered before he gathered his clothes and hobbled off, eager to flee that burning blue gaze.

Oin arrived shortly after the hobbit returned from his bath, and the bandage changing ritual began. 

Thorin knew Bilbo would not insist on his leaving, but he decided it was best just the same. As much as he would like to continue spending his morning making Bilbo blush and stammer, he had much on his mind this day and needed to meet with Balin immediately. 

* * * * *

The door of the meeting chamber slammed harshly as Thorin entered. Balin and Dwalin were already seated, chatting easily while they awaited their king. The abrupt intrusion of said king jarred them from their chatter and effectively pulled them both to attention. 

“Dwalin, any news on Lieutenants Tamir and Raburk?” Thorin asked before he had even found his chair.

“Yes. My friend Bifur met with me jus last night and gave me the dirt.”  
“And?”  
“It seems Lieutenant Tamir in particular, is an ass hole.”

Thorin nodded. He loved that his guard captain never minced words. He appreciated his friends right-to-the-point approach, however crude.

“And what of his role in my grandfathers armies and their..... habits?”  
“He didn't know much for certain. Bifur is a good sort, and the other two know it. They were careful to keep him out of their circle, for the most part. Tamir tried to get him demoted, he thinks. Thror was probably right on the cusp of that when he dropped dead.”

Thorin grimaced at the callousness of the statement, however true. And this was the other side of having such a straight forward friend. He kept his eyes pinched shut as he continued.  
“And Raburk?”  
“He's a hard one to read, that one. Bifur suspects Raburk is the kind to simply do as he is bid. He was right there with Tamir, but Tamir kept him at a distance. Not sure with that one, he wasn't.” 

Thorin put a hand over his forehead and rubbed his temples.  
“Alright, Balin, do we have an angle for our questioning this afternoon?”  
“Leave it to me, Thorin. I have it all right here, and I've added as we've gone on. You will have the list to pick from right in front of you.”  
Thorin nodded weakly, still massaging his head. The pain was becoming stronger, and a dizziness was beginning to set in as time went on.

“Are you going to be able to get through this questioning?” Balin asked softly as he set a gentle hand on Thorin's shoulder.  
“Yes. Yes I'll be fine.”  
“Then perhaps we should cut this meeting short, give ourselves a couple extra hours to prepare, and meet back before the officers arrive?”  
“Yes yes that sounds great, Balin. I'll just- I'll see you this afternoon.”

Thorin rose abruptly and took his leave with haste. The walk back to the royal chambers was nearly unbearable. Thorin's head throbbed and his vision blurred at the edges, his breathing coming out too shallow, too quick. He staggered dizzily as he climbed the winding tunnels to his rooms. 

As soon as he reached the royal wing, Thorin felt his discomfort lessen. He straightened a bit as he made his way down the vast hall, then let out a sigh of relief when he finally leaned against the stone door that would take him back to Bilbo. A smile graced his features as his head ceased to pound, his vision cleared and breathing returned to normal hearing his One's voice behind that door. He pushed it open and with the effort of every ounce of his control, he did not rush to Bilbo's side at the hearth.

Bilbo sat on the floor before the couch, a large tome open in his lap. Kili was perched on the cushion behind him, leaning casually over his shoulder, as Fili sat close by on the rug, listening to them chat. As Thorin got closer, he saw it was a book of old maps his hobbit and youngest heir were studying.

“This is the Shire, right here. And that there is Hobbiton,” Bilbo was pointing out to Kili.  
Kili leaned in, squinting to make out the runes over the hobbits fingers.  
“Ah! Yes, and that is where your home is?”

Thorin's smile faltered as he waited to hear the longing in Bilbo's voice at the mention of his home.  
“Well, yes. Or rather, where it was. I suppose.”

Thorin wondered if he should feel guilty that the hesitancy to refer to Hobbiton as his home warmed the dwarf's heart so greatly. Even so, he couldn't help the smile that returned to his face as he wondered if a mountain of stone could ever tempt a gentle child of wood and water to call it home.

“Thorin! You're back early!” Bilbo exclaimed.  
Thorin's grin lost its open softness a bit as the three turned to face him.  
“Yes, well, I decided to take a break before lunch.”  
“So a double break then, uncle. It pays to be king I suppose!”  
Thorin gave Kili a pointed look. “As opposed to a prince who sits and chit-chats with a hobbit all day? Yes I can see your morning has been quite demanding.”

Kili looked offended at his uncles ribbing as Fili smothered a chuckle. “I'll have you know, I've been to the training rooms already, and I've managed to take a nap!”  
Thorin sat next to Kili, eying him a bit.  
“But not a bath, I see, since just by looking at you I can tell you trained rather hard this morning.”  
Kili managed to look even more affronted and gave his uncle a scoff. “This is all just proof of my hard work!” he gestured to himself with a careless flip of his hands.  
Thorin gave his nephew a playful shove, effectively unseating him and toppling him to the floor.  
“You smell like an orc.”

Kili stood and gave Thorin's shoulder a well deserved smack. He completely disregarded his uncles demand and instead found himself a comfortable spot on the rug next to Fili, a good distance away.

The door opened lightly, as Dis strode in to the room. She gave Thorin a smile as she moved to sit at the table.  
“Lunch is on the way,” she declared. “I thought we could dine together this afternoon.”  
Kili's head poked up at the declaration, his eagerness plain on his face.  
“Oh good! I'm as hungry as a hobbit!”  
“Or a fat smelly orc,” Fili added as an afterthought, dodging his brother's responding slap.

Bilbo stood, chuckling at the jest as the three rose from the floor.  
“That is impossible, Kili. Hobbit's have most impressive appetites,” Bilbo informed the prince as they made their way to the table. Thorin smiled warmly as he watched their easy banter. He followed them across the room and sat at the head of the table, just as Dis went to answer the door. She returned with a large tray laden with food. 

“What have you been up to this morning, Thorin?” Bilbo asked the king curiously as he loaded his plate.  
“Oh. I just met with Balin and Dwalin. Nothing too exciting.” Thorin attempted to keep his tone nonchalant as he responded.  
“And yesterday? Didn't you meet with Captain Gilda?” Fili asked curiously. 

Kili perked up. “Captain Gilda?”  
“Yes. She will be thinning her ranks and looking for new recruits. And new lieutenants, probably shortly thereafter.”  
Kili frowned. “New lieutenants?”  
“This is very sensitive information Kili,” Thorin gave his nephew a stern look. “It does not go beyond this room.”  
“Yes uncle. What happened to Glormur, Nuk, and Boru?”  
“Nothing.... yet.”

“And Master Baggins, what have you and my sons been up to this morning?” Dis quickly changed the subject to something a little more easy to stomach. Speaking of the lieutenants only reminded her of the recent death in the mountain, and the unfortunate circumstance of it being her son to discover it.

“We have been poring over old maps, reviewing geographical writings, adventuring through text, if you will,” Bilbo answered happily.  
“You know, you will find even more information and maps in the library,” Dis said suggestively with a raised eyebrow.  
“Fili suggested the same thing.” Bilbo turned to Thorin. “Perhaps you could take me?”

Thorin's lips curled up into an overjoyed toothy grin. “Of course Bilbo. I would love to show you the library. Tomorrow?”  
Bilbo blushed lightly with a responding smile. “Tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all still enjoying this story! I love hearing your feedback!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter here, but I hope you enjoy it just the same.   
> A few questions answered, and several more arise.

The warm joy that had engulfed Thorin during lunch quickly faded as he made his way through the mountain halls and back down to the main levels toward the throne room. He was not looking forward to facing the dwarves responsible for Bilbo's injuries, in fact, he was sure that it would be nearly impossible to keep from strangling the dwarves in question on sight. 

The familiar ache was beginning at his temples, and his heart was beginning to race as he got further and further from the object of his affections. He sighed and rubbed a soothing hand over his forehead.

“Yer Highness?”   
Oin's voice carried from just down the hall, and Thorin stopped and spun on his heel to face the healer.   
“I have a tonic for you. Should ease the effects of the untended bond.”  
He handed Thorin a vial with a light red liquid in it. It was thick and clung to the glass as it sloshed in its container.  
“Take a sip in the morning, and a sip at lunch. It won't stop the issues completely, but it will take off the edge. For a time.”  
Thorin popped the cork and took a small sip and cringed at the bitter taste, then looked gratefully to the healer.  
“Thank you, Oin. I need a clear head this afternoon.”  
The gray haired dwarf narrowed his eyes at his king.   
“It would do you well to initiate courtship with the hobbit immediately, to fully end these side effects.”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. He opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it.  
“Yes, thank you Oin.” He turned without another word and continued on his way.

Oin frowned after the kings retreating form. The stubborn royal was going to drive himself mad with his pigheadedness. 

* * * * *

Thorin walked past the throne room and off to the side chambers typically used for questioning and quick meetings between court. Balin stood uneasily outside one of the chambers, and looked up at Thorin as he approached, his face grim with the seriousness of todays questioning. He knew this would not be easy for the king, and he had made sure Dwalin had taken measures to keep everyone safe.

“Are ya ready laddie?” Balin asked with concern as Thorin put a hesitant hand on the door.  
“Ready as I'm going to be,” was the short response.  
“Keep your head, lad. Here are your notes. I will write down anything of consequence as we go, and I'll be with you all the while. I'll have a few questions of my own, I'm sure.”  
“Feel free to jump in as you see fit, my friend.” Thorin took the offered parchment and looked up at his old mentor uncertainly. “You will stay my hand if I lose my temper?”

“Lad, there are six royal guards in that room. If the lot of them cannot keep this from becoming a physical altercation, I have no hope for this kingdom, and it may as well come to blows now.”

Thorin returned Balin's wry grin and pushed the door open.

The officers sat on a polished stone bench, slightly raised at the front of the room. There was an armed royal guard posted to the right of each of them. The dwarves stood as Thorin entered, though he was sure it was not out of any respect, but simply because they knew it would be required. He stood tall and pulled his shoulders back, knowing that in this moment, he could show no sign of vulnerability or weakness. He stepped behind the small table in the middle of the room and gave the officers a nod, and the five suspects took their seats.

“I assume you are aware of why I summoned you here?” Thorin asked without looking up from the parchment Balin had given him.

There was no answer, and Thorin sighed as he finally raised his head.  
“Let me start by verifying the facts. You were all present on the venture to Ered Luin, organized by my grandfather, King Thror, and set out 18 months past?”

“Yes.” The simple question finally coaxed an answer out of one of the stubborn set officers. Lieutenant Glormur, Thorin noted.  
“And you also were all present when the ranks began their return journey, stopping for a few nights in the Shire, in a town called Hobbiton?”  
“Yes.” Glormur again answered.  
“And which of you were present when the kidnapping of one of Hobbiton's residents, Bilbo Baggins, occurred?” Thorin looked up again and was met with tight lipped silence. “Captain?”

“I was not there.” Bolorin snapped.  
“I was.”   
Thorin looked to the source of the voice, Lieutenant Raburk, if Thorin remembered correctly.  
“What happened?” Thorin's question was more of a command, and he was pleased to see the Raburk winced a little at his tone.  
“I went for a night cap with two of the other lieutenants and a few of the lads. We were on our way back to camp, joking with some of the locals, when we saw him sitting there on a bench. He seemed the perfect candidate, so we took him.”

“Perfect candidate?”  
“Yes, Your Majesty. He was soft, clean, comely, and alone.”  
Thorin took a deep breath, soothing the beginning flickers of his anger before it could consume him.  
“And why those qualities?”  
“King's orders,” Raburk answered simply.   
“Who else was present?”  
“Me and Glormur here.” Tamir. His voice fueled the flames of ire, and Thorin pinched his eyes shut against the onslaught of his temper.

“And who is responsible for his injuries?” Thorin asked shortly.  
“Which ones?” Bolorin asked calmly, as though they were discussing the weather.  
Thorin's eyes narrowed. “All of them.”  
Bolorin shrugged indifferently. “That would depend. We all played a part one way or another. Kings orders.” Bolorin's cold eyes were full of defiance as he met Thorin's. 

A steady hand on his shoulder brought it to Thorin's attention that he was shaking. When had he stood up? He frowned and glanced at his advisor, who gave him a pointed look. Thorin turned his back on the officers and took a few steadying breaths. 

“What exactly were my grandfathers orders to you? When and to whom did he specifically give them?”

“His most esteemed officers. In our weekly meetings. We were ordered to find him slaves on our ventures, and break them in before we returned.”

The edge of Thorin's vision had started to redden and his hands were shaking more violently. He placed them firmly on the table and shook his head fiercely to calm himself. Thankfully, Balin jumped to his feet, quick to take up where Thorin had left off.

“Break in? Please explain,” the advisor implored.  
“Old Thror liked his slaves compliant upon receiving. Said he didn't have the energy to deal with defiance. He looked to those of us who found him the most lovely and compliant slaves with most favor. So, we taught the hobbit how to obey. How to respect his superiors, and take orders without complaint.” Bolorin raised a dark eyebrow haughtily.

Balin glanced back and Thorin, who had taken up pacing and rubbing his temples agitatedly.

“And were any other dwarves allowed to keep slaves?” Balin continued.  
There was silence, and the nervous shifting of glances.   
“Do any of you, or have any of you, ever owned a slave?”  
“No,” Bolorin's reply seemed sincere, though Balin could see deception in his dark eyes.   
“And the rest of you?” The question was met with a staggered chorus of four more negatives, and Balin somehow believed them.  
“How many slaves had Thror owned prior to this?”

Bolorin huffed. “Nine? Ten maybe?” he shrugged. “Who could tell.”  
Balin's eyebrows raised a bit at the flippant response.   
“What became of these slaves?”  
Bolorin shrugged again. “Died, a few of them. The others were cast off. He didn't like to keep them for more than a year or so.”  
“Cast off.... where? To whom?” Balin asked with a worried frown.  
Bolorin huffed and rolled his eyes. “Who are we to question our king? He did as he pleased, and none of us kept tabs on him. How should we know where he disposed of his cast offs?”  
Balin's eyes narrowed as he glared daggers at the captain.  
“Perhaps, Captain, it would concern a dwarf with any sense of pride or common decency.”

Bolorin huffed again and crossed his arms over his chest. 

Thorin stormed back to the front of the room, obviously tired of the captain's lack of respect. “I am now your king. And I demand to know who among you is responsible for the burns on the hobbits foot?”

There was silence as the lieutenants exchanged glances and Captain Bolorin maintained a firm glare at the king.  
“Who whipped him? Who attempted to squeeze the life from him?”  
“Kings orders.” Bolorin's voice was dripping with defiance as he answered.  
“My grandfather ordered you to torture your captives?”  
Bolorin shrugged. “He didn't order us not to.”

Dwalin was suddenly standing before Thorin, who could not remember when he had made the conscious decision to lunge for the captain's face. 

“Careful, Your Majesty. My brother is the General. You wouldn't want to go to war with your own army.”

Thorin grit his teeth and struggled more firmly against his best friends hold.   
“You will pay for what you have done to the hobbit. And for the death of that archer.”

Bolorin leaned forward a bit, leveling Thorin with a sneer.  
“You have no proof that I have done anything, or I would already be imprisoned. Besides, you can't complain too much. Rumor has it you held on to our little gift. Clearly he has provided some amount of satisfaction for you.”

Thorin reached for the sword ever present at his hip and struggled against Dwalin to draw it.

“Get them out of here!” Balin ordered Gloin as Dwalin wrapped two vice like arms around the king.

When the suspects had been shown out, along with their guards, Dwalin finally loosed his hold on Thorin. The king shook him off and let out a feral roar of rage as he slammed his fists into the table. 

“That slimy shit eating absolute-”  
“Orc fucker?” Dwalin tried.  
Thorin shot him a semi-amused glance, then looked down at his hands, which were now gripping the end of the table hard enough to crumble the edges. He frowned and loosed his grip in favor of rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.

“What do we do, Balin?”  
“Well, there isn't much we can do. Orc fucker he may be, but the captain is right. We have to weed out Golorin's supporters before we can make a move on him, and we currently have no grounds to do so. Otherwise there will be an uproar. And we all know what happens when a kings armies turn against him.”  
Thorin nodded grimly. “They will stage a coup, and I will be eliminated.” He scratched at his beard a moment, lost in thought before he slammed his hands on the table again.  
“I want Bolorin! We need evidence.”  
“We may need to stage another questioning,” Balin suggested.  
“We need the hobbit's testimony,” Dwalin grumbled from Thorin's left. 

Thorin nodded in reluctant agreement. “I will ask him for it, but I do not know if he will be able to stand before the nobles and give it.”  
Balin placed a reassuring hand on Thorin's shoulder.  
“You've got to try, lad. Can't be sure Bolorin gets what's coming to him without having some sort of witness or proof.” 

* * * * *

The headache was returning as Thorin made his way back to the royal chambers. He wondered if it was partially due to his outburst, or dread at having to ask for Bilbo to testify before his court and nobles. The growing dizziness was evidence that perhaps Oin's tonic was simply wearing off, and Thorin was relieved when he saw the familiar door to the royal chambers at long last. The afternoons questioning had shaken him, and he was even more eager than usual to be close to his One. 

When Thorin entered, it became apparent that his meetings had taken longer than he had originally thought, as there was nobody in the sitting room when he entered. The fire had died down, and there was a calm silence in the chambers. He strode through the room and into his own bed chambers, careful not to make a noise as he opened the door in case Bilbo was asleep. 

As it happened, Bilbo was not asleep, and was instead sitting quietly before a merrily crackling fire, a book open in his lap and an ale on the table next to his chair. Thorin smiled, sure he could get used to the sight greeting him more regularly at days end. He approached cautiously, trying to keep from frightening the hobbit. His boot hit the table leg, and Bilbo looked up at him with a blinding grin. 

“Hello Thorin. I saved you a bit of supper.” The hobbit nearly leapt to his feet as he moved to grab the tray sitting on the edge of Thorin's desk.   
“Had to fight off both Fili and Kili to keep it for you. But I knew if you were gone late you wouldn't eat, and you must take better care of yourself, you know.”  
Thorin smirked at the hobbit's mothering, sitting in his chair and allowing Bilbo to fuss over him. The hobbit set Thorin's plate in his lap and handed him an ale, then reclaimed his chair and looked at the dwarf expectantly.

“How was your afternoon?” Bilbo asked easily.  
“Actually, Bilbo, there is something I have to tell you.” Thorin shifted, setting his plate and ale on the table. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, resting his face in his hands with an uneasy look about him.  
“What is it?” Bilbo asked uncertainly. The king's demeanor put him on edge, and he was afraid of anything that would put Thorin so ill at ease.

Thorin scrubbed his hands over his eyes, then folded them, resting his chin in the cradle of his laced fingers. “I held a questioning today.”  
Bilbo shifted slightly, his eyes full of unease. “A questioning?”  
“Of the officers who captured you.”  
Bilbo nodded lightly. “O-Oh. And?”  
Thorin sighed and leaned back, placing his hands on the armrests and giving Bilbo an apologetic smile that was more of a grimace.   
“I don't have enough evidence to do anything with the information I've gained. The Captain was not very forthcoming, and the lieutenants seemed hesitant to give away any information that might condemn any of them. They admitted to your capture, but since it was arguably under my grandfathers orders, I cannot punish them for doing so.”

Bilbo lowered his gaze with a frown as he mulled over this information, and Thorin gave him a moment to process. After a few minutes, the hobbit looked up at the king, his eyes full of fear as he swallowed audibly. 

“What happens now?” Bilbo asked weakly.  
“There is to be a formal hearing, the day after my coronation. I intend to charge the guilty party with unnecessary torture of a civilian at least, but I need proof and specifics.”  
Bilbo closed his eyes, then clenched his jaw.  
“What must I do?” he asked, looking at Thorin with determination.  
“I need you to testify.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through this! I appreciate you!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the last chapter of anger and frustration, I believe we all need a little happiness and feel goods. Enjoy!

The suns warm rays filtered into the room, casting a blinding golden glow on an empty lounge. The other end of the room was shadowed, but the glare of morning light could not be entirely blocked out. Bilbo blinked rapidly, waiting for his senses to sharpen as the veil of sleep slowly dissipated. He opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the onslaught of light. He became aware of something warm beneath him, and a steady movement against the back of his head. He looked up, and found himself gazing into the face of a soundly sleeping dwarf. Thorin sat with his back against the headboard, and Bilbo cradled between his legs. 

Bilbo's eyes widened as he looked down and realized his arms were wrapped around one of the dwarfs solid thighs. He jumped up, putting a little distance between them, and Thorin startled at the abrupt movement. 

“Bilbo?” Thorin squinted as he opened his eyes, and he stretched a bit to loosen muscles that had cramped from sleeping upright. The nights events came rushing back to him, and he suddenly felt quite guilty in the clarity of morning for getting so close to Bilbo in his sleep. 

The hobbit had awoken, screaming in the night. Thorin had come to him, singing and running a reassuring hand through his curls. Bilbo had cuddled into the dwarfs side, and before he knew it, he had found the hobbit curled in his lap. He hadn't been of mind to move him, as Bilbo had looked so peaceful, and Thorin took advantage of the comfort of having him close. 

“Th- I- I am so sorry,” Bilbo said shakily.  
Thorin frowned. “Why should you be sorry Bilbo?”  
“I was... we were...”  
“It is I who should be sorry,” Thorin interrupted the hobbits stuttering. “I should not have infringed on your personal space when you were so vulnerable in the night.”  
“You- what's that now?”  
“I was only happy you were resting peacefully with me near, I did not know it would upset you this way.”  
“It's not- I was infringing on your personal space!” Bilbo exclaimed in exasperation.

Thorin frowned again. “I am the one who made myself comfortable in your bed.”  
“I- Thorin, I was wrapped around you like a tomato vine on a fence post!”  
The corner of Thorin's mouth quirked in a grin as he tried to smother a chuckle.  
“A tomato vine, are you?”  
Bilbo gave him a calculating look, then allowed himself a hint of a smile.  
“Perhaps.”  
“And I a fence post?”  
Bilbo's smile grew as Thorin lost himself in a fit of laughter, something the hobbit decided was most unkingly, and most beautiful to behold. 

When finally Thorin had composed himself, he looked to Bilbo warmly.  
“I do not mind you taking comfort in me, in fact I find comfort in you as well.”  
Bilbo blushed lightly at the declaration, and he began to fidget self consciously.  
“Yes, well...- no harm done then. I'd best be-” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the bathroom. “I'll be in the tub.”

Thorin quirked an eyebrow and grinned at the flummoxed hobbit, who quickly retreated to the other room. That could have been disastrous, but Thorin thought it actually went quite well, considering. He had not planned on encroaching on the hobbit, but Bilbo had been so tempting, clinging to him warm and soft and smelling so sweetly of sleep. 

Thorin grinned to himself as he dressed, remembering the feel of Bilbo's hands on his thigh, and the pink tinge that had kissed Bilbo's cheeks and ears so becomingly. 

Breakfast was a quiet affair, and Bilbo blushed furiously every time his eye caught Thorin's. The dwarf couldn't help but find amusement at the hobbit's shyness, but his discomfiture was beginning to make Thorin feel even more guilty.

“Do you still wish to visit the library this morning?” Thorin broke the silence.  
“Oh! Oh yes- yes very much so. Are- will you be able to accompany me?”  
“Of course. We can go as soon as Oin has seen to your bandages.”

Bilbo beamed, thrilled at the thought of visiting what must be a vast library. He was happy to see as well, that Thorin seemed to have become the closest thing to a friend that Bilbo had ever had. 

Soon after, the old healer finally arrived, and Thorin pointedly kept himself too busy to appear angry as Bilbo's bandages were changed. Oin had given Thorin quite a curious look when Bilbo hadn't insisted on his leaving, raising a suggestive eyebrow at the king as he packed up his bag to leave.

Thorin tried to ignore the knowing smirk the healer leveled at him as he left, and turned instead to Bilbo.

“Are you ready?” he asked seriously, worried for the hobbits first venture into the mountain.

“Quite ready, actually. I think I have been cooped up long enough.” He marched pointedly over to Thorin, placing his hands on his hips. “Lead the way, Your Highness.”  
Thorin nodded and opened the door, taking up stride beside the hobbit through the sitting room. 

As they approached the door that would lead them out into the vast halls of the mountain, Thorin glanced down to get a read of Bilbo's mood. 

Bilbo's eyes were wide, uncertainty written clearly across his face. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, anxiety radiating off of him in waves. 

“Bilbo?” Thorin's voice was even and calm as the hobbits wide eyes snapped up to meet his own. Ever so slowly, Thorin reached down and took the hobbits trembling hand and hooked it in the crook of his elbow. The action earned him a shaky smile and endearing blush as he opened the door a crack. 

“Shall we?” The dwarf asked softly. Bilbo nodded jerkily in response and Thorin led him out into the brightly lit hall. 

The hall was empty, save for the two guards standing outside, for which Bilbo was grateful. He looked around in wonder as he clung to Thorin's arm, nerves and awe overcoming him in equal measure. 

Thorin kept a slow and steady pace, as Bilbo's legs were a bit shorter, and the way he was stuck to his side would hinder quick movement. He smiled as he watched Bilbo take in the beauty of the kingdom, eyes shining and head turning this way and that as they passed through the mountain. 

Without too much interruption , they reached the library. Bilbo's hands slid from their death grip on Thorin's arm and he audibly gasped as he took in the sight. The highly polished stone floor with veins of gold running through it like rivers, walls decorated with tapestries depicting great kings and battles, gemstones littered throughout the vast room, framing doorways and sconces, casting glittering light over walls and ceilings. 

And books. Rows upon rows of book shelves, shelves all the way up the back wall filled from end to end with heavy tomes bound in leather. 

“Oh my....” the words were barely audible as they slipped past Bilbo's lips and he turned back to Thorin. “Where to begin?”  
Thorin grinned. “Wherever you like.”

Bilbo shook his head as he turned to face the vast collection again. He slowly took a few tentative steps forward, then began to move as though he were being pulled through the room by a tether, gaze shifting slowly from side to side as he tried to take it all in. He was in a daze as he imagined the time and subjects it would take to fill so many books. It would take a lifetime to read them all, but he was more than willing to try.

“Look at that!” Bilbo grabbed the kings hand in his excitement and pulled him across the room to a far wall. Thorin beamed. Heat radiated through him from the touch of Bilbo's hand. It rolled through his fingers and up his arm, leaving a satisfying warmth. Bilbo was lovely like this, enthusiastic and full of wonder, completely uninhibited. Thorin wondered at the change in the hobbit, and how easily he seemed to take up Thorin's hand, or touch his arm to point out this book or that. 

“This is amazing!” Bilbo's exclamation pulled Thorin's attention from inward, where his stomach was tying in knots and his lungs were refusing to work properly. He looked at the tapestry Bilbo was pointing at. A map of Middle Earth so large, you could see each individual peak in the mountain ranges. He dropped his gaze back down to Bilbo.  
“Yes,” his eyes searched the hobbits, “Yes it is quite amazing.”

“Are you alright? You look a bit flushed.” Bilbo sounded genuinely concerned, and Thorin realized the sight he must make, blushing and staring transfixed as the hobbit rushed this way and that.

“Yes, I'm fine Bilbo. Why don't I find us somewhere to sit, and you go ahead and pick out some books.” 

Thorin gave Bilbo's hand a squeeze before he walked around the corner and found an empty table. He sat down heavily on the stone bench, resting his face in his hands. 

When had he become so smitten? Sure, he admired that hobbit, and of course he was attracted to him, but that didn't explain him acting like a fumbling adolescent at the mere touch of a hand! Thorin scolded himself and tried to regain a bit of control over his breathing as he waited for Bilbo.

The hobbit walked up and down every aisle of books, brushing his fingers over old worn spines and loose pages. The smell of leather and parchment and dust lingered heavily in the air, and Bilbo found it incredibly comforting. He moved slowly, picking over the volumes on the shelves.

“Are you looking for something specific?” a shy but gentle voice broke through Bilbo's silent astonishment. The hobbit jumped a bit, then his eyes fell on a dwarf standing beside the next row of shelves.

“Oh-oh no I- Honestly, I'm a bit overwhelmed.”  
The dwarf chuckled lightly. “First time here?”  
“Yes.” Bilbo looked the dwarf over. He was young, possibly just a bit older than Fili, his beard only slightly longer. His hair was red, braided on both sides in a much simpler style than the king or the princes. He had light brown eyes, and his face was spattered in freckles. A knit scarf graced his shoulders with matching fingerless gloves on his hands. His smile was kind, and Bilbo felt he had found himself a kindred spirit, as the dwarf was balancing a considerable number of books in his hands.

“What would you recommend?” Bilbo asked the young dwarf.  
“Oh! Well, I personally am fascinated with history. There is a very vast section on the history of nearly every kingdom you could think of. Or there's the poetry section. But that's mostly in Sindarin. Or there are books on gardening, plants, animals, rock and minerals, gemstones, mining, smithing..... anything you can think of.”  
“That sounds like an awful lot for one day. Where should I begin?”  
“I have a few here on the culinary arts and the history of elves. Would you care to look over them with me?”

Bilbo smiled warmly at the dwarf. “Yes. Yes I would like that very much Mister....”  
“Ori. Just Ori,” the dwarf answered cheerfully, precariously balancing his stack of books on one arm and extending his other hand.  
“Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo took Ori's hand, and was surprised when the dwarf pulled him close to bump their foreheads together.  
“Oh!” the hobbits surprise flustered the dwarf, and he let go immediately and took a few steps back.  
“I'm terribly sorry, I don't suppose you were expecting that. Clearly I need to read up on my hobbit customs, although I don't believe there are many books on hobbits in here.”  
“Oh no no, never mind that no harm done.” He gave the dwarf a reassuring grin and they easily fell in step together as they made their way to the tables.

Ori's eyes widened and he stopped in his tracks as Bilbo walked right up to sit across from the king. Bilbo frowned as he realized Ori was no longer next to him and he looked back in confusion at the dwarf. 

“Oh, right,” he glanced at Thorin. “I forget sometimes that you are in fact royalty,” he mumbled softly. Thorin raised his eyebrows and fought a surprised grin at the hobbits statement as he watched Bilbo address the young dwarf.

“Come Ori, don't be shy.”  
The dwarf took a few slow steps forward, a light blush tinging freckled cheeks. With a little coaxing, he finally took up the seat next to Bilbo.  
Thorin smirked as the smaller young dwarf gaped up at him.

“I see you've made a friend, Master Baggins,” he said in amusement.  
“Yes, yes this is Ori.”  
Thorin bowed his head to the young dwarf. “Well met, Ori. I assume you would be Master Nori's younger brother.”  
Ori's jaw worked a few times before he managed to form words. “Oh uh- yes. Well met, Your Majesty.”

“There now, where would you like to start?” Bilbo asked. He looked at Ori expectantly, and the young dwarf shook himself and finally pulled his eyes from the looming king before him.  
“How about we start with Elvin History? I find the elves fascinating.”

Bilbo smiled as Thorin's face pinched up in a grimace. “So do I, Ori. So do I.”

They whiled away the morning, Ori and Bilbo poring over tattered pages and rolls of parchment telling of histories of elves and stories of the Valar. All the while Thorin watched transfixed as Bilbo became more and more animated, obviously in his element. Thorin loved the passion and enthusiasm that came out as Bilbo absorbed every bit of information and every story he and Ori could dig up. 

Hours had passed, and Thorin could hear Bilbo's stomach complaining of a missed lunch. 

“Bilbo? I do not wish to rush you, but I must meet with Balin. Will you be alright with Master Ori and Dwalin? I'll have lunch sent, I know you are hungry.”  
“Oh. Yes, yes I believe I'll be alright. As long as Ori doesn't intend to go anywhere....”  
“Oh no, I have no other plans today.”

“Then I will leave you to it. I'll return in an hour or two.” He touched Bilbo lightly on the shoulder, then swept from the room. 

As promised, Dwalin took up guard right next to the table, and Bilbo couldn't help but notice Ori's nervousness did not dissipate at Thorin's departure. If anything, he seemed even more tense, casting furtive looks at the guards back, and Bilbo could swear Dwalin was smirking. 

Lunch arrived as promised, and Bilbo and Ori nibbled as they read each other bits and pieces of information, or interesting stories of lore. Before they knew it, the day had passed, and Thorin had long since returned, sitting at the next table with Dwalin and Gloin to while away the time. 

Bilbo's stomach was growling again, and he couldn't believe so much time had passed since lunch. He bid Ori farewell, after a promise to meet back the next morning, and he and Thorin headed back to the royal rooms, Dwalin taking up stride before them, and Gloin behind. 

Thorin smiled as Bilbo chatted easily, sharing his thoughts and opinions on things he and Ori had discussed. The hobbit was flourishing, it seemed, and the king could not have been happier to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope this chapter made many of you smile. As always, your comments and thoughts are appreciated. You are all giving me the inspiration to continue, and I thank every one of you who has been following along, and those who are just now joining in!


	13. Chapter 13

Bilbo awoke with a gasp, shooting upright in the bed. He looked around for a moment, waiting for his erratic heartbeat and breathing to calm. He saw that Thorin was still on the lounge and took heart in the fact that he had not woken the king with his nightmares. He smiled proudly as he hopped down from bed, and went off for his morning bath. 

The echoed splashing of running water, and a cheerful melodious voice wiggled its way into Thorin's consciousness. He frowned for a second, trying to place the sound before allowing his eyes to flicker hesitantly open. The hobbit was singing. It was daylight, the hobbit had not woken once in the night, and was now singing in Thorin's tub. The dwarf grinned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. 

Thorin had just finished dressing when Bilbo walked out of the bathroom, whistling as he walked over to the hearth, wet curls dripping water in rivulets down the hobbit's face and dampening the collar of his tunic.

“Good morning, Bilbo.” Thorin's voice was cheerful as he greeted his upbeat companion.  
“Good morning, Thorin.” 

The dwarf moved to stoke up the fire so Bilbo's hair could dry. Though outside the sun was shining, and spring was near, the bite of winter was still present, and the cold stone of the mountain did nothing to abate it. The large forges in the lower levels helped to keep the mountain warm through its series of vents, but here in the upper levels, its heat was all but lost. 

Bilbo moved closer as Thorin coaxed the flames back to life, and he sighed in relief as the warmth enveloped him. 

The dwarf watched the hobbit with a quirk of a grin at Bilbo's relaxed and contented state as breakfast arrived. He grabbed the tray and brought it to the little table by the fire, enthralled with Bilbo's obvious excitement at the thought of breakfast. He watched in amusement as Bilbo sat and rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he tried to decide what to eat first. 

The healer arrived before Bilbo had even managed to clear half his plate. Oin and Thorin both caught themselves trying not to chuckle as the hobbit fumed his annoyance at being interrupted. He sat back in his chair, foot raised obediently, as he grumbled something about no sense in proper meals or some such. 

Thorin frowned. “What was that?”  
Bilbo's eyes widened a bit as the realization he had been thinking aloud struck him. He schooled his features, remembering this was Thorin, and there was no reason not to speak his mind.  
“What bit?”  
“That bit about proper meals?”  
“Oh yes. Hobbits- well- hobbits... are accustomed to a few more meals than the typical three of men and dwarves and elves.”

Thorin's eyebrows raised, and out of his periphery he saw a similar expression on the healer. “How many meals do hobbits usually take in a day?”  
Bilbo trained his eyes on a fraying spot on the carpet. “Seven.”  
“Seven?!” Oin didn't even attempt to disguise the shock in his voice, and Bilbo colored at the tone.

“If that is the case, I will see to it that you get more regular meals, my dear hobbit. I only wish you would have said something sooner. Is there anything else that hobbits require that would make you more comfortable here?”  
“Oh....” Bilbo looked a bit flustered at Thorin's obvious concern. “I- well eventually I would like to see a little more daylight, once I'm a bit more comfortable.”  
Thorin smiled warmly. “Is the skylight insufficient? Or are hobbits like trees that they require copious amounts of sunlight to thrive?”  
Bilbo grinned and finally met the kings eye. “No, the skylight is nice. I enjoy curling up with a good book where it lets in the sun.” He didn't bother to mention the added benefit of sitting where Thorin slept, soaking up the kings intoxicating smell on the pillow as he basked in the suns rays. 

Oin looked back and forth between the flirting hobbit and his besotted king. He rolled his eyes and knew it was time to change the subject lest he be stuck watching the two moon over each other.  
“All done there. Let's see your back, then.”

Bilbo stood and turned away from Thorin, lifting his tunic carefully over his head and immediately covering his chest. 

Thorin swallowed and shut his eyes against the flurry of anger that surged in him at the sight of Bilbo's wounds. He had become a bit more accustomed to seeing the burns on the hobbits foot, but the angry broken skin of the hobbits back still made him see red. He took a steadying breath, glad Bilbo was facing the other direction, and opened his eyes again, choosing to fix them on the flames dancing in the hearth. 

“Everything is healing quite nicely,” Oin said in approval. “You'll have some scarring, to be sure, but it will be fully healed in no time. For now, I would like you to unwrap your wounds at night and let the air get to them. I'll keep bandaging them in the morning for a few more days, but soon we should be done with that as well.”  
The healer grabbed his bag and nodded to them both before striding out the door. 

“I am glad to hear your wounds are healing well.” Thorin said kindly as he stood from his chair.  
“I can assure you, I feel the same way,” Bilbo joined him and they headed for the door.  
“What are you doing this morning, Thorin?” Bilbo asked curiously.  
“The mining guild has requested for me to look over a potential new mine. The guild has inspected it, and fortified it for safety, but I must look it over to assess size and possible output before any major digging happens.”

“Oh, well that sounds.....”  
“Boring?”  
Bilbo chuckled as he and Thorin stopped at the hall door.  
His voice lowered a bit as he looked down at his feet with a grin.  
“I was going to say productive, but I'll take your word for it.”  
He looked up at Thorin, and felt pinned by the kings intense stare. His blue eyes darkened, full of an emotion Bilbo couldn't quite place, and he found his face heating at the intensity of it. Thorin seemed to remember himself and he blinked rapidly as the spell was broken.

“I assume you will be visiting the library again today?”  
“Yes, I am meeting with Ori.”  
“Gloin will go with you. I will see you this evening.”  
Bilbo nodded and with a crooked grin, Thorin left.

Thorin pulled the door closed and looked to the ceiling as he sighed. Oh, he was falling far too fast. He turned to his guards.  
“Gloin, please accompany Master Baggins when he leaves for the library. See to it he and Master Ori come to no harm.”  
Gloin nodded. “Yes Your Highness.”  
“Dwalin, send your messenger to appoint two of your other men back at this door.”  
Dwalin walked off to find his messenger as Thorin pulled the little vial of crimson out of his pocket. He took a sip, before Dwalin joined him again and they headed off through the mountain.

* * * * *

Bilbo stood inside the door, one hand on his rapidly beating heart and the other over his mouth. What was he getting himself into? He shook his head, dropping his hands to fidget at his sides and turned to face the hearth.

“You alright, Master Boggins?” Kili's tone was teasing and dripping with insinuation as he looked up over the back of the sofa.  
Bilbo grimaced. “Yes, yes I'm fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I will be heading off to the library.” He turned on his heel and headed back for the door.

“Hey wait!” Kili lunged over the back of the couch, looking a bit too excited for Bilbo's liking. “I'm coming too!”  
Bilbo pinched his eyes shut as Kili bounded happily to his side as he walked out the door.  
Gloin fell into step behind them without so much as a word and they headed down the hall together.

Bilbo was relieved when the excitable dwarf prince didn't dive right into teasing him mercilessly for his interaction with Thorin. On the other hand, he was quite concerned that the ribbing would come out at the most inconvenient time.

Ori was already at a table with a considerable number of books when Bilbo and Kili walked into the library. He waved in greeting as they approached, a most excited look on his face.

“What are you busy with, Ori? Already three books in I see,” Bilbo proclaimed cheerfully as he took up the seat across from the young dwarf.  
“Oh yes, researching, you know.”  
“Researching what?” Kili asked. Ori gave the prince a nervous look as he reached out to take Ori's hand. “Kili,” he introduced himself with a little bow.  
“Ori,” the other replied, and Bilbo swore he heard bone splinter as the two cracked their heads together abruptly.

Kili sat down at the table next to Bilbo as Ori began.  
“I was searching for any information I could find on hobbits. There are very few texts on your habits and customs. I've been looking all morning and I haven't managed to find much more than an odd mention here or there. Would you mind telling us a bit about your culture?”

“Oh, why, yes I suppose. What would you like to know?”  
Ori pulled out some parchment and a quill and ink, his tongue between his teeth in his eagerness to learn more of distant land and people.  
“Is it true that hobbits eat twelve times a day?”

Bilbo chuckled. “Heavens no, we eat seven times a day.”  
“Seven?” Kili's eyebrows disappeared behind the mop of hair hanging over his face and he leveled Bilbo with an incredulous look.  
“Yes, seven.”  
“Where do you put it all? You're so small.” Kili looked over the hobbit, as though he were hiding a portion of himself beneath the table.

Bilbo gave him a disapproving look before turning back to Ori.  
“What else would you like to know?”  
“Do hobbits have a governing system much like dwarves?”  
“Not exactly, no,” Bilbo answered as he swatted Kili's hand away from poking at his stomach.  
“There is a Thain, which I suppose it could be argued is sort of like a king, but with less power. Mostly anyone involved with what would be considered The Shire's government is nothing more than the official gossip committee really. Hobbits are a more simple race than dwarves. And more peaceful too. Well, at least, we don't have need for armies and guards and archers and such.”

Ori's quill was scribbling furiously across his parchment, and Bilbo wondered just how the young dwarf was getting so much information from what little Bilbo had to share. 

“What about families? Do hobbits tend to have larger families? Or smaller ones? How long do hobbits generally live? And when do you come of age? ” Ori asked, glancing up at him eagerly.  
“Well- erm-”  
“What of your family, Master Boggins?” Kili asked, suddenly swept up in Ori's rapid questioning. 

“Oh, well they-” Bilbo stuttered a bit, trying to find a trace of logical thought behind the answers that had automatically presented themselves in his mind at Ori's onslaught of questions.  
“Yes, tell us of your family!” Ori leaned in, quill at the ready.

Bilbo slumped back in his chair and let out a sigh of resignation.  
“My parents died quite some time ago. My extended family... well they..” Bilbo swallowed a bit uncomfortably, looking from one eager young face to the other.

“We don't speak. Never had much to do with them really.”  
“Aren't hobbits usually very close to their families?” Ori asked in concern.  
“Y-yes- but... not mine.”

“So, your family just choose not to spend much time together? Or are they involved with a hobby or business that takes up too much of their time?” Kili pressed.  
“They- My family spends much time together. I simply.... have always been a bit more of a loner.” The corner of his lips twitched up in the suggestion of a smile, but the discomfort in his eyes was evident, at least to Ori.

Kili on the other hand, sat frowning at the table. “I have spent much of nearly every day with you since you came to us, and I have seen no sign of you being antisocial in any way.” He turned to cast his disbelieving gaze on the hobbit, and noticed Ori's pointed look a bit too late.

“Alright, I was a bit of an outcast, Kili. I did not have any friends, and my family didn't want to have anything to do with me. But I was comfortable. I had my smial, and my books, and my garden, and that was just fine with me.” Bilbo finished his declaration with a jerk of his chin and he looked up at the dwarves as though daring them to dispute his claim.

“But....why?” Kili's voice was full of disbelief at the thought that anyone could dislike the kind and gentle hobbit.  
Bilbo let out a gust of breath through pursed lips, then he seemed to calm a bit, admitting defeat with grace. 

“I'm not sure how much you know of hobbits, but we are a very suspicious people. Very proper and resistant to change. Most hobbits are not very accepting of unfamiliar things or beings, and anything that is considered against the grain is frowned upon. Except the Tooks. My mother was a Took, and the wildest of the lot. Did all sorts of things out of the ordinary. 

It was a big to-do when all of Hobbiton learned that my father was her match, what with him being a Baggins, the most prestigious family in all the Shire. His family pitched a fit, trying to convince him there must be some mistake. But hobbits are born with a mark. A mark that indicates who we are destined to be with. The Baggins side tried to tell my father he had misinterpreted his mark and hers, and surely he could not be destined to spend his life with a Took. 

Anyhow, when I was born, there was another uproar. Most hobbits have marks of plants or creatures found in nature. Mine is.... not. When the inhabitants of the Shire heard, they were sure it was a bad omen. They thought it must have happened because my parents were truly not meant to be together, and I would only bring trouble.”

Bilbo paused, looking up at the shocked dwarves staring at him with open pity.  
“Now, don't look at me like that boys. I have made my peace with it, and so should you. Considering we are no longer in the Shire and you have only just met me quite recently. No sense getting worked up over some.... silly hobbit nonsense.”

“What is your mark, Master Baggins?” Kili asked, his curiosity heightened so much so he forgot to use his playful nickname.  
“It's- it's none of your concern, that's what it is!” Bilbo poked the dwarf playfully in the shoulder.  
Kili frowned. “Let me see!”  
“Oh no, no no no no not going to happen, Kili. Don't look at me like that.”

Just then, Bombur arrived, laden with a tray of food.  
“Master Bombur?” Bilbo asked uncertainly.  
“King Thorin has made a special request that this be delivered to you. My apprentice will bring another in a couple hours.”  
Bilbo blinked in shock at the declaration. “Th-thank you.... Master Bombur.”  
The round dwarf smiled and gave a slight bow. “It's no trouble, Master Baggins! No trouble at all.”

Bilbo looked back to the young dwarves smirking at him as Bombur took his leave.  
“What?”  
“Uncle favors you,” Kili said simply.  
“I- he- he is only trying to make sure I feel at home.”  
“And all the flustering and stuttering this morning?” the dwarf accused teasingly.

Damn. Here we go. “Kili, don't be a fool.”  
“His Highness seemed quite... fond of you, judging by his body language and the way he was watching you yesterday,” Ori added.  
“Don't you two dare go trying to put silly ideas into my head! I am a Baggins! Baggins don't get dragged halfway across Arda to be admired by dwarf kings!”

“Perhaps. But you are also a Took, are you not?” Kili raised his eyebrows at the flustered hobbit. “I wonder, that mark of your wouldn't happen to be dwarven, would it?”  
Bilbo huffed a sigh of indignation. “I don't know dwarvish, but this is not some language. Its a symbol of.... something. I don't know. But I'll be damned if I'll be showing it to either of you!”

“Perhaps you should show it to King Thorin,” Ori suggested softly, sending Kili into a fit of laughter. Bilbo couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.  
“Sure. Right after he offers me a throne,” he laughed even harder at the absurdity.

Ori looked up, and Bilbo could see he hadn't been joking. 

* * * * *

Thorin followed Bofur into the partially dug tunnel, looking over veins of gold in the walls and ceiling as he listened to the Guild Master ramble cheerfully. The mine had been opened just far enough to reveal its potential, making the area a bit crowded even with just the two of them present. Dwalin stood just outside, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest and looking just as menacing as ever. 

“As you can see, this particular mine looks as though it could yield quite a fortune!” Bofur gestured to their surroundings as his hat flapped about like a great winged bird perched on his head. 

“Quite. Everything looks in order here, Master Bofur. I'll have Balin begin the paperwork.”  
“Wonderful! Can't wait to get the lads started in here! Always excited to dig their axes into some new rock!”  
Bofur's smile was infectious, and Thorin could see he and Bombur were alike in temperament. Perhaps Bofur was even more cheerful than his brother. Thorin grinned. A new mine, a new beginning. Bofur was rambling next to him as he looked over the tunnel again. 

The sound of shifting rock alerted both the dwarves, and Bofur, having spent most his life in the mines, could tell by sound alone they were about to experience a cave in. 

Exactly where they were standing.

Within seconds. 

Bofur grabbed the king by the arm and all but threw him towards the reinforced entrance, scrambling to follow him to safety. At the same moment, half the tunnel fell in with a deafening crash and clatter of rock. 

“Your Majesty! Are you alright?” Bofur rushed over as Dwalin pried the king up from the stone floor.  
“Yes, thank you Master Bofur.”  
“What happened? I thought you said this damn tunnel had been inspected!” Dwalin barked.  
“It had! Has!” Bofur scratched at his head, looking back at the pile of rock now blocking half the entrance. “Can't say as to what coulda caused that. I helped inspect this tunnel myself!”

Thorin exchanged worried looks with Dwalin. Judging by the guards grim face, he agreed. This was no accident.

* * * * *

Bilbo smiled to himself as he and Kili made their way back to the royal rooms. Kili was chattering animatedly, and Bilbo had to admit he had no idea what the subject matter was anymore, as his mind was filled with dark hair and icy blue eyes and skin as warm as the kiss of the sun. 

They walked into the sitting room, and at the sight Bilbo frowned. It was long since time for supper, and yet no one was here. Bilbo calmed himself, reasoning that it was entirely possible that Thorin was in his bed chamber. He bade Kili a good night, and headed to Thorin's room. 

A tray sat on the table between the chairs at the hearth, and Thorin sat rigidly in his usual seat. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo approached slowly.  
“Bilbo,” Thorin greeted him calmly.  
“Thorin, is everything alright?” Bilbo was instantly worried at the clipped sound in Thorin's voice.

Thorin scrubbed a hand over his eyes, and tried to smile as he looked over at the timid hobbit.  
“Yes, everything is fine. Just a long day is all.” He turned back to face the fire as Bilbo helped himself to some left over bread and cheese.  
“Did something happen today?” Bilbo asked tentatively.  
Thorin sighed. “No. Well, maybe.” He shook his head at himself. 

“Did something happen with the mining guild?”  
“Not exactly,” Thorin was deflecting, and Bilbo was not amused by it.  
“Thorin what happened?” he demanded.

He really shouldn't share this will Bilbo. The hobbit was still fragile, and would most probably be terrified.  
Yet..... and yet, Thorin found he couldn't help himself. Confiding in Bilbo felt like the most natural thing to do.  
“The mine. A portion of the tunnel, it collapsed.”

Bilbo looked astonished. “Was anyone hurt?”  
Thorin shook his head gravely. “No, at least Master Bofur has good reflexes. It was a close call,” he finished, giving Bilbo a pointed look.

“You mean, it almost fell on you?”  
Thorin simply nodded as Bilbo felt himself pale.  
“And... and do you believe it was meant to fall while you were there?”  
Bilbo filled in the blanks that Thorin was hesitant to even acknowledge. The dwarf licked his lips and rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably.  
“I believe..... I believe it is entirely possible. Though I don't have any proof.”

Bilbo set down his plate and leaned over the arm of his chair so he could place a hand on Thorin's.  
“Do you think there could be someone trying to hurt you?” Bilbo asked seriously, his eyes reflecting his fear.  
Thorin was touched at the hobbit's concern, and again he found himself unable to stretch the truth. 

“Yes, Bilbo, I believe there are many who would not hesitate to harm me. I am a king, taking over a broken kingdom. I am the opposite of my predecessor in every way. Change never comes with ease in these situations.”

Bilbo frowned and nodded as he addressed his feet.  
“And, do you think, perhaps my presence is making it worse? That maybe, just by being here, with you, I am losing you your people's respect and support?”

Thorin got out of his chair and turned to face Bilbo. The hobbit nearly gasped when the king hit his knees before the chair. Bilbo felt as though he were in a fog of astonishment as he felt Thorin's hands wrap around his own. The heartfelt look Thorin gave him nearly stopped his pulse as surely as it stopped his breath, and where their hands were clasped together felt hot and Bilbo was nearly frightened as sapphire eyes burned into his own.

“Bilbo, your presence has brought me nothing but joy. Those whose loyalty I do not have, are treacherous through the work of my grandfather, not through your presence. It is because of this treachery that you have come here, not the other way around. Much as I wish you had not come to endure all you have, do not for a moment allow yourself to believe that I would ever wish you had not been left in my chambers.”

Thorin stared into Bilbo's eyes for a few moments, before he rose from the floor and went off to take his bath. 

Bilbo sat for several minutes before he could bring himself to move. Surely Thorin had just wished to express his gratitude for Bilbo's friendship, that could not have possibly been a declaration of love. No, no, Bilbo was needing some sleep is all, and obviously Kili and Ori's words were getting to him. 

Not to mention, the recent news that there may be someone after Thorin's life surely would cause Bilbo to see emotions where they didn't exist, perhaps a projection of his own. That had to be it. Bilbo nodded determinedly and got up to ready himself for bed.

Once there, Bilbo lay awake for quite some time, worrying and wondering and mulling over possible intent of the kings words. But eventually, sleep won out, and the hobbit found himself slumbering easily in the king's bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I can't tell you how awesome you all are. I appreciate each and every one of you! I've probably said it a million times, and I'll say it a million more, thank you for your encouragment, and thank you for humoring a needy author. Your comments are my drug of choice.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fought and fought with this chapter, but finally, I'm happy with it.  
> Mostly.  
> I think.  
> Enjoy anyway!

The library was nearly empty, and Bilbo sat quite comfortably on the stone bench. The table was strewn with a vast collection of open history books, and Ori sat next to the hobbit, carefully studying the text of a particularly large leather bound book. A lunch tray sat abandoned on the other end of the table, baring no more than the a few discarded apple cores and a handful of breadcrumbs. It was well past tea time, but Bilbo hardly took notice.

At Bilbo's insistence, Ori agreed to teach him everything he knew about Erebor and its political system, as well as anything they could find on the history of the kingdom. They were currently poring over a record of the names of council advisors from times long past. 

“There seems to have been quite a number of councilmen throughout Erebor's history. Why does it change hands so frequently? Who is on the council now?”  
“As far as I'm aware, technically nobody. Each king hand selects them, and so after King Thror died, his council was suspended, until King Thorin appoints his own from Erebor's nobles.”  
“And when does that happen?”  
“Typically not until after the coronation. It's a very long process. Usually, a member will be selected here and there, and a new king won't have a full council until well into the first decade of his rule.”

Bilbo's face hid none of his shock.  
“That's an awful long time to be short-handed in the decision making department.”  
Ori shrugged.  
“It's too difficult to change and old dwarf's way of thinking. There had been many cases where another kings council was kept after the crowning of the next, and the council fought against the new king at every turn. With dwarves being so stubborn, many won't agree with change that they don't think the previous king would have approved of.”  
Bilbo nodded.  
“I suppose that makes sense. Hobbits aren't much for change either, though I believe that has more to do with a distrust of outsiders than a general stubbornness.”

Ori smiled.  
“Yes, I suppose so. Where is Prince Kili today?”  
Bilbo frowned.  
“You know I'm not sure. He was gone before I got up this morning, and I still don't know where he got off to yesterday after second breakfast.”  
“Hmmm. Perhaps he's in the practice rooms. I know some dwarves like to go regularly to keep themselves loose.”  
“Loose?”  
“Quick with a sword or ax. Or bow, I suppose. Never know when we might be expected to go to war.”  
“I thought there was an army for that,” Bilbo said hesitantly.  
“Well yes, but if we were under attack, every able bodied dwarf would be called to fight. We are all warriors, to some degree. And war does not care how peaceful a life you may lead. It will claim you all the same.”

Bilbo swallowed at the grim assessment.  
“Yes. I suppose you're right.”  
He gazed off to the side, fidgeting and obviously overcome with troubled memories.

“I'm sorry, Master Baggins. Have I upset you?”  
“No, no, it's quite alright.” 

Ori scrambled to find a change in subject, deciding to comment on a particular topic he had been meaning to bring up before.  
“You know, I don't mean to sound rude, but Prince Kili's clothes hardly fit you properly.”  
Bilbo looked down at the dwarvish tunic hanging loosely about his collar.  
“Well, no, they're a bit baggy.”  
“My brother could possibly be able to make you a few things that would be more fitting. I know he wouldn't charge you for it.”

Bilbo looked at him in disbelief. “He- he could?”  
Ori nodded. “Dori is a member of the textile guild. He can make anything.”  
“That would be truly marvelous, Ori. Though I must insist on some sort of repayment.”  
“Nonsense! Dori would be insulted if a dear friend refused a gift. I'll need to get your measurements, and I could sketch a hobbit inspired outfit for him to make, if you'd like.”  
“Yes! Thank you. Why don't we head to my rooms to measure?”  
“Oh! Well, if that's allowed.....”  
“I'm sure Thorin wouldn't mind. Come on, Gloin will escort us.”

The two made their way through the mountain, and Ori noticed Bilbo clung to him quite closely when other dwarves passed them in the halls. They made it to the royal chambers quickly, and before long they had made themselves comfortable by the hearth.

Ori pulled out a blank parchment from his bag and readied his quill.  
“What style of clothing do hobbits usually wear?”

Bilbo and Ori spent the rest of their day designing a dwarf inspired hobbit outfit, and Bilbo was pleased with the thought of wearing something that fit. Bilbo hardly noticed when afternoon tea and dinner were delivered to the rooms without a hitch. He shared his spoils with Ori as the young dwarf sketched a perfect outfit for Bilbo.

* * * * *

“Have you found any useful information yet?” Thorin was restless, as he always seemed to be lately. He paced the length of the council room, rubbing his head at intervals and scratching at his beard. The spy sat at the table, next to a concerned looking Balin and extremely unhappy Dwalin. 

“I spoke with Master Bofur, he swears up and down the tunnel should have held. He is convinced it had been tampered with.”

Balin turned to the star haired dwarf, his frown deepening the lines of his face.  
“Do you think we can trust Master Bofur? We hardly know him,” the white haired dwarf questioned.  
“I believe we can, though if you have your own reasons I can hardly argue with you. His brother Bombur is a dwarf of quality, and even his cousin... well, Dwalin knows Bifur,” Thorin answered evenly.  
Dwalin looked up and grunted.  
“Bifur is a good sort. Swears his cousin is an honest dwarf, hard working and loyal to the crown.”

Thorin nodded.  
“Anything else you've managed to dig up, Nori?”  
The spy shook his head.  
“Not yet. Haven't snooped around too much. I could dig a little deeper this afternoon if you'd like.”  
“Do that. See if there's any leads at the site, then start asking around. Discreetly, mind you.”  
Nori nodded his agreement and headed for the door. 

Thorin turned to Balin.  
“Were you able to find anything in the Captain or Lieutenant's chambers?”  
Balin shook his head.  
“No. No sign of slaves, at any rate.”  
Thorin sighed and frowned at his hands on the table. His head was beginning to ache, and vision clouded a bit. His tonic must have been wearing off. It seemed to happen faster each time he took it.

“Thorin?” Balin's voice was hesitant, his tone full of his worry. “I believe-”  
Dwalin cleared his throat pointedly.  
“We believe,” Balin corrected, “it would be best if you lay low for a little while. At least until the sentencing of the officers. You know it is most probable that they are behind the collapsing mine.”  
“You would have me hide? Cower in my rooms while dangerous traitors roam my halls free?” Thorin exclaimed, gesturing angrily with his hands.  
“No, Balin, I will not have it. They should be arrested simply for suspicion of treason.”  
“The General will have the army in an uproar within hours. We just don't have any evidence, Thorin!” Balin reasoned.

Thorin stopped and buried his hands in his hair, frustration boiling beneath his skin.  
He let go and took a deep breath, willing his tension to release.  
“I know. Meanwhile, I hope nobody else gets hurt while those monsters roam free.”  
He resumed his pacing.  
“I think it would be best if we called it a night, My King. You are in need of rest and I daresay a bit of time with your hobbit. Your separation from him is doing your emotions no bit of good.”

Thorin stopped pacing and nodded his agreement.  
“You're probably right. I feel as though someone has stuck a chisel in my head and begun mining my brain. My thoughts are clouded and heavy.”  
“Thorin, you cannot carry on like this much longer.”  
Thorin closed his eyes and nodded again.  
“I know.”

Without another word, the king strode from the room, Dwalin jumping up to take pace behind him. 

Upon reaching the royal chambers, Thorin stopped to face his guard captain and old friend.  
“Care to join me for a night cap, Captain?”  
Dwalin grinned.  
“Rum or ale?”  
“I believe after today, rum would be appropriate.”  
“Even I can't say no to that.”

The two entered the sitting room, where talk and laughter could be heard, and found Bilbo and Ori sitting on the rug with a large book open between them. 

“Hello, Master Baggins, Master Ori,” Thorin greeted them so as not to sneak up on the distracted pair.  
“Good evening, Thorin,” Dwalin quirked an eyebrow at the king when the hobbit addressed him so informally.  
Thorin pretended not to notice. 

“Dwalin and I were going to share in a bit of rum. Would you and Ori care to join us?”  
“That sounds lovely!” Bilbo said excitedly as he got up off the floor with the large book in hand. Ori glanced up shyly and tried not to meet Dwalin's eye as the hobbit placed the book back in its spot on the shelf. The guard captain gave Ori a wry grin and raised an eyebrow in amusement. Ori in turn blushed and tried desperately to find anywhere else to focus than on the rugged old guard.

This would prove to be an interesting night. 

* * * * *

Several hours, and probably a few too many drinks later, the hobbit was feeling quite relaxed. The bottle was nearly empty, and everyone had loosened up a bit. Thorin and Dwalin had been in the throws of a friendly argument for the last half hour, and Bilbo wondered how they kept at it. He had already forgotten the reason for their debate, but what he did remember was that it hadn't seemed to be of importance at the time.

Bilbo frowned at the pair for a moment, trying to pick up the thread of the conversation, before turning to Ori to ask if he remembered what they were fighting about.  
“Ori?”  
Bilbo poked the dwarf in the arm to get his attention, but Ori was too caught up watching the argument. Bilbo looked at Ori, then followed his gaze, amused to see it was focused entirely on the old tattooed guard captain. 

“Ori!” Bilbo elbowed the dwarf pointedly, finally gaining his attention.  
“Sorry, what was that?” Ori asked, his speech slightly slurred. Bilbo noted the dwarfs eyes were a bit unfocused and his cheeks quite flushed.  
“Dwalin is a wonderful Guard Captain,” Bilbo mentioned casually, leveling Ori with a too-innocent look.  
Ori's eyes widened as the pink of his cheeks deepened.  
“Protective, strong. Attractive, too, if you like that strong rugged type,” Bilbo pressed on.  
The hobbit now looked quite amused, much to Ori's dismay.  
“Oh, I- I hadn't noticed!” Ori stammered a little too loudly, though the intensified reddening of his face said otherwise. “B-but yes... yes I suppose he is...”

“Well,” Bilbo said as he staggered to his feet, “I think you should go tell him as much.”  
Ori choked on his rum, erupting into a coughing fit. Bilbo thumped him on the back, perhaps a bit harshly, and Ori shot him an alarmed look.

“I can't just go over there and say something like that to the captain of the royal guard!”  
“And why not?” Bilbo asked.  
“You- you can't just march up to someone and tell them you are attracted to them!”  
“Attracted to who?” Dwalin's gruff voice nearly sent Ori jumping out of his skin.  
“N-No one!”

Bilbo gave Ori a wry grin, and Ori felt he may vomit when he realized all eyes were now trained on him. He glanced at Thorin, whose face held only light amusement. Then, with great difficulty, Ori managed to force himself to face Dwalin, only managing to stare at the larger dwarfs knees. He slowly slid his gaze up to Dwalin's face, and the dark eyes and predatory grin aimed at him nearly sent him into another coughing fit.

Bilbo let the stare down continue for a few moments, before taking pity on Ori and striking up a conversation, trying to draw the attention from the nervous dwarf. Thorin jumped to answer him, but Dwalin's gaze didn't falter at first. His lip curled into a more mischievous grin, and he gave Ori a wink before he turned to listen in on the discussion.

Ori sat lost in his thoughts for a while, trying to hold himself steady and force his body to relax again. The lateness of the hour finally occurred to him, and he knew Dori would be having a fit waiting for him to return. He cringed as he thought of the earful he would earn when he finally got home, and so he stood abruptly, interrupting the other three.

“I really should be going.”  
At his declaration, conversation halted, and Ori again found three pairs of eyes fixed on him.  
“It's getting late. Dori will be worried.” 

Bilbo rose and Ori lightly tapped their foreheads together in farewell. Ori bowed to his king, thanking him for a lovely evening, and then he turned uncertainly to Dwalin. He found he couldn't bring himself to say anything, or offer any customary farewell, and chose instead to stand quite awkwardly, staring at the guards boots. 

Dwalin turned to Thorin.  
“I should see that this one makes it home without any trouble.”  
He turned back to Ori.  
“I was about to head home myself,” his voice was lower, husky as he addressed Ori. “Would you like me to walk you?”

Ori stammered, before settling on a nervous nod, and Bilbo and Thorin exchanged amused glances as the two headed out the door. As soon as the latch had clicked shut, Thorin and Bilbo found themselves lost in a fit of laughter.

“Well, I would have to say there is a slight chance young Ori may not make it back home tonight!” Thorin laughed again and wiped his watering eyes.  
“Thorin, did you just make a joke?” Bilbo asked as he staggered to the couch.

Thorin frowned to himself, making a show of pretending to think very hard about it.  
“Why, yes Master Baggins, I believe I did.”  
Bilbo giggled and sat down next to Thorin. He let out a sigh as he slumped into the dwarfs solid shoulder.

Thorin froze, then slowly turned his head to look at the hobbit. Bilbo met his gaze with half lidded eyes and a rum soaked smile, then he went limp and began snoring lightly on Thorin's arm.

Thorin looked away and grinned to himself. Perhaps telling Bilbo of his feelings would not be so ill received as he had first thought.

* * * * *

Thorin had fought with himself for quite some time, debating whether or not he should carry Bilbo to bed. He finally decided the hobbit was in no state to relocate himself. He scooped Bilbo up and took him into the bedroom, tucking him soundly under the thick blanket of Thorin's bed. 

It had been several hours, and Thorin had been unable to sleep, his mind ever evolving around Bilbo, and his worry over his kingdom. He gave up and decided to go through some of the paperwork stacked on his desk. He had been scanning a report on exports to Dale, without really retaining anything he was reading, when the hobbit had started thrashing. He got up and walked over to the bed, shushing gently as he went. He sat down next to the hobbit, and once again, he began to sing. 

Bilbo swung his fists wildly, struggling against a much stronger foe. The dwarf shoved him to the ground, it's face hidden in shadow. He cried out as his assailant landed a well aimed kick, before the scene before him vanished. Everything went black, and a deep calming voice rang out soothingly through the darkness. It rolled over him deep and strong, like the waves of the sea, but comforting and reassuring as a lovers embrace. 

Bilbo's brow furrowed as sleep begrudgingly released its grasp on him. His eyes flickered open and he looked to the source of the soothing melody. He watched in wonder as Thorin's deep timbre held out the final note of his lullaby.

“You have a most beautiful voice.”  
Thorin jumped, shooting a startled glance at the hobbit.  
“You sing to me nearly every night, don't you.”  
Bilbo's question was more of a statement, and the dwarf looked away and shrugged, embarrassment clear on his face.  
“Nearly. I- its the only thing that seems to....”  
Bilbo interrupted him, placing a hand over Thorin's where it lay on the bed. He smiled up sincerely at the flustered dwarf.  
“Thank you.”

Thorin's posture relaxed and he smiled back at the hobbit. Bilbo looked down and picked at the blanket.  
“I hear it, you know. Your voice. It pulls me from my nightmares. Chases them away. I always know when you've been singing to me.”  
Bilbo's voice was soft, as the whisper of the wind outside the mountain. He looked back up at Thorin.

“You bring me comfort. And if you don't mind my saying so, I believe I bring you comfort as well.”  
The dwarf had the good grace to blush, very uncharacteristic for the normally self-assured king.  
“Will you lay with me tonight? Keep me company, so the monsters of my nightmares don't return?”

Thorin swallowed a few times, unable to pull any logical thought from his panicked brain. He was sure he must have misheard, that or he must be dreaming. But there Bilbo sat, looking at him expectantly. Thorin tried to force his mouth to work, but instead nodded once and turned towards the hobbit, lowering himself very slowly and hesitantly until he was laying on the bed. Bilbo assumed the same position, arranging himself so his back was flush against Thorin's strong chest. He made himself comfortable, then pulled the dwarfs thick arm over his side, holding his hand on the mattress in front of him, and cuddled in against the king. Enveloped in Thorin's reassuring warmth, Bilbo easily drifted into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... a little sappy there at the end.... but really. I couldn't help it. I hope you enjoyed it. More soon  
> Thank you my loves!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so overwhelmed with the great response this story is getting. Thank you thank you thank you once again for being so supportive and sweet!
> 
> And now for a little tease. Enjoy!

Bilbo awoke to a searing heat along his front, as though he had fallen asleep too close to the fire. There was a rumbling against him, and a sound like the wind gusting through a cavern. He opened his eyes slowly, and squinted to find his face buried in the warmth of a very solid chest. He looked up at Thorin, who was snoring peacefully, his face calm in sleep, his dark eyelashes resting softly against his face. 

Bilbo's eyes widened as the nights events came tumbling back to him like an avalanche.  
Oh dear. Had he... had he fallen asleep... on the king? And then... and then, been carried to bed, and asked said king to lay with him?  
Oh sweet Yavanna. The memory of honest words whispered in the night brought an overwhelming sense of embarrassment to the hobbit as he lay against Thorin's chest. 

Bilbo winced and shook his head at the memory. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring directly at the collar of Thorin's shirt. He couldn't help but to appreciate, through his fog of humiliation, the strong broad form of the dwarf laying beside him. Thorin's loose tunic gave an enticing view of sharp collar bones and a peek at the dwarf's muscular chest. Bilbo had always known Thorin was larger than he, but there was never a moment when the hobbit could really admire up close, without the dwarf in question probably becoming quite uncomfortable. He thought perhaps he should take advantage of this moment and get a good look at the dwarf. 

Bilbo looked up and really studied Thorin's face. The lines of stress and worry, though lessened in sleep, still left creases across the dwarf's forehead and around his eyes. When Bilbo looked closely, he noticed Thorin's nose was slightly crooked, as though it had been broken at some point in the past. His gaze swept over Thorin's face, down to softly parted lips. He found himself licking his own as he reached up and brushed a wayward strand of ebony hair from Thorin's mouth. He couldn't help it when his fingers continued sifting through the thick tresses that rested on a solid shoulder. Oh, his hand was running away with thoughts he had long since tried to ignore as it gently caressed the taught muscle of Thorin's arm. 

Bilbo removed his hand quickly, closing his eyes and forcing himself to swallow. What would Thorin say if he had woken while Bilbo was touching him so boldly?

Bilbo went back to simply gazing at the dwarf, and if he thought about it, he probably made quite the sight at the moment, ogling the dwarf king as though he were a particularly delicious looking cake beneath the party tree. He didn't care much at present, and pushed the thought away, deciding to take in the rest of the dwarf's impressive physique. He moved the blankets just a bit, and noticed with delight that the tunic had rucked up slightly over Thorin's side, leaving a tantalizing view of his stomach. His abdominal muscles weren't necessarily chiseled and bulking by any means, but they were obviously sturdy, and Bilbo imagined they would feel solid as the mountain. He pondered the possibility of ever getting to run his hands over the dwarf properly, and he didn't remember giving his eyes permission to wander. 

Wander down.

Down to levels that were even more highly improper. And bulging with evidence of potentially alarming...... girth. Length. Erm....  
Bilbo shook his head as he realized he hadn't taken a breath since his eyes had made contact with Thorin's.... well he needed to stop thinking about it right this instant. He pinched his eyes shut and forced himself to take a steadying breath. 

“Good morning, Bilbo,” Thorin's voice was soft and gravely, and Bilbo thought perhaps the sound of it in the morning was even better than when he sang.  
Well maybe.  
He grimaced, wondering if he'd been caught looking where he aught not to be, and slowly peeled his eyes open, reluctantly meeting Thorin's heavy lidded gaze.  
“Did you sleep well?” Thorin seemed calm and peaceful, so Bilbo figured he had not been caught in his inappropriate gawking. He smiled awkwardly and cleared his throat.  
“Yes. Yes I slept- quite- quite well, thank you. And you?”  
Thorin grinned. “Yes, I slept very well.”

Bilbo sighed. “Thorin, I'm sorry for pulling you in to lay with me like some fauntling's security blanket. It was highly inappropriate of me.”  
“It was no hardship, I assure you.” Thorin grinned before he threw off the covers and leapt to his feet. “I'll draw your bath.”

Bilbo grinned happily to himself, a giddy bubbling excitement rising within him in a wonderful disconcerting way. He jumped up and strode over to the wardrobe, picking out his clothes for the day.

* * * * *

Thorin stood before the counter, his head bowed over the sink as he cupped cool water in his hands, splashing it over his flushed skin. When he had woken that morning, barely aware through the dark curtain of sleep, the first thing he had noticed was the unsteady breath of the hobbit. He had held perfectly still, careful not to startle Bilbo, as he had been obviously on edge already. Thorin had thought perhaps the hobbit was lost in the grasp of another nightmare, but after a moment, it was clear the hobbit too was awake. 

It took all of his control not to gasp as a soft hand had suddenly run through his hair, and thankfully Bilbo had not noticed his shivers as the hobbit slid his fingertips down Thorin's arm. The dwarf was surprised Bilbo hadn't heard his pounding heart as he fought to keep his eyes closed and remain still, wondering what more the hobbit would be brave enough to do while he thought Thorin slept. 

The hitch of Bilbo's breath was unmistakable, and Thorin's eyes had flown open of their own accord in time to witness the hobbit's lowered gaze, then eyelids stuttering shut in obvious arousal as Bilbo's face had flushed crimson and he had taken a steadying breath. The dwarf could almost hear the groan Bilbo had obviously swallowed.

Thorin thought perhaps he should feel violated, but all he could feel was overwhelming need, and he decided it would be in his and Bilbo's best interest if he took care of the issue now. 

It had been some time since he had taken himself in hand, and Thorin's fingers trembled as he quickly pulled at the stays of his thin sleeping pants. He closed his eyes and groaned as his hand finally wrapped around his throbbing length, and he hoped the sound of the bathwater would be enough to drown out the unchecked noises falling from his mouth as he began to stroke. He imagined Bilbo, and the soft touches of the morning, and what may have happened had he invited the hobbit to continue his explorations. The Bilbo of his minds eye was bold, his touch more firm and demanding, roving over Thorin's body in earnest. He imagined soft lips sliding over his skin, and what the hobbit would taste like, warm and sweet as the kiss of summer. 

Thorin's hand quickened its pace, and he held his breath against a moan as he began to approach his peak. He imagined the hobbit's body, what it would feel like beneath him. What noises would the hobbit make as he found his pleasure, sweat slicked skin glistening in the firelight as Thorin's hands found every sensitive spot on Bilbo's body. Bilbo's eyes dark and burning as his mouth slackened in a silent plea for more. The thought sent Thorin over the edge, and he pinched his eyes shut as lights popped behind closed lids and Bilbo's name tumbled from his lips perhaps a bit louder than he should have let it.

Thorin's eyes snapped open in panic and he scrambled to clean himself. The door opened as Thorin finished tying up the lacing of his trousers.  
“Thorin? Did you call for me?”

* * * * *

Breakfast was a bit hurried, and Oin arrived shortly thereafter to dress Bilbo's wounds. In a rush, Thorin bade Bilbo a good day, promising to join the hobbit for lunch. He quickly took his leave, eager to put some space between them, lest he do something stupid. He pulled out his vial as he strode down the hall, and noticed it was running a bit low. He took a sip and a mental note to ask Oin for more soon.

Balin was already present when Thorin reached the council room, and Fili sat next to him at the great stone table. 

“I assume you have the tax proposition finished, then?” Thorin asked Balin as he took his chair, getting straight to business. 

“Of course. I have it here for your review, and the guild masters will arrive any moment.”  
Thorin took the proposal from his advisor, giving the old dwarf a pleased look.  
“I can always count on you, Balin.” He turned back to the table to review Balin's work, but stopped when his nephew's rigid posture caught his eye.  
“Fili, is there something troubling you?”

Fili fidgeted uncomfortably, refusing to look up from the table.  
“I am concerned, uncle. Was there really an attempt on your life?”  
Thorin assessed his heir, who was staring anxiously at his tapping fingers. Much as he wanted to shield his nephew, he knew the truth would be more prudent.  
“Yes. We believe so.”  
“And the officers... the ones who hurt Master Baggins? Why don't you just arrest them? You know they're guilty.”

Thorin sighed.  
“I do. But I need proof. A king is only as strong as his kingdom. If our subjects are convinced that I wrongfully imprisoned officers of our own army, they will think I am....”  
“Like your grandfather?”  
Thorin winced. “Yes. And we will lose their support, and their respect. Not to mention, if we enrage the army, they will turn on us.”  
Fili swallowed thickly and frowned again at his hands.  
“Is there any way I can help?”  
“Learn your duties well. Listen to our people. Their love is not required, but a good king does not just demand his subjects respect.”  
Fili nodded, and Thorin turned back to his papers. 

“This all looks to be in order,” Thorin stated a few minutes later, “the guild masters should have no problem with this. And if they do, well I suppose they'll just have to get used to it.”

Balin chuckled. “Quite right.”

* * * * *

The meeting had gone quite well, in Thorin's opinion. The guild masters had been courteous and accepting of the tax proposal, save for a couple sour looks from Damir and Tabor. Though that had been entirely expected, and Thorin was grateful it hadn't escalated into a shouting match. He didn't think he could have suffered through such an uproar, and may have simply drawn his sword and been done with it, had it gone too far. 

Luckily, none of that was necessary, and the king was absently heading for his rooms. He rounded a corner, and stopped abruptly as an eager Ori ran straight into him, bouncing off his chest and landing roughly on the stone floor.

“Your Highness! I'm so sorry I wasn't paying attention-” Ori's voice cut off abruptly as he noticed Dwalin standing beside the king.  
Thorin glanced at Dwalin, who was now gazing at the floor with a quirk of a grin and an adoring look in his eyes. The guard reached out to help Ori up off the floor. Ori took his hand gratefully, and held on to it for a bit longer than necessary after he had been pulled to his feet.  
“Dwalin?”  
The bald dwarf snapped to attention, the ridiculous expression dropped from his face as though it had never existed.  
“Yes, my king?”  
“Would you and Ori care to have lunch with Master Baggins and I?”

* * * * *

Bilbo was already seated at the table when Thorin, Dwalin, and Ori arrived. The king was amused when he witnessed the shy smile Ori directed at the old guard captain as he took his seat, and the returned look of affection. He glanced at Bilbo, who smiled at him openly, obviously thrilled at this development. 

Lunch was quiet, laced with knowing glances and shared smiles. The plates were cleared, and Dwalin and Thorin were preparing to leave.  
“What are your plans for this afternoon?” Thorin asked Bilbo.  
“We are meeting with Ori's brother for a proper fitting. He has graciously offered to make me a few outfits.”  
“Oh?” Thorin threw Ori an impressed look. “That is very generous. Please let your brother know I am willing to repay the favor any way I can.”

Ori nodded as Thorin reached for the door. “I'll be sure to tell him.”  
His face turned a brilliant shade of red when Dwalin leaned in to kiss his cheek.  
“I'll see you at dinner,” the guard captain murmured against Ori's temple before turning to follow Thorin out. 

Bilbo leveled Ori with an incredulous look. “What was that about?”  
Ori gave Bilbo a mischievous smile, then grabbed up his bag.  
“Are you ready? My brother will be expecting us soon.”  
Bilbo took the hint and dropped the subject, following Ori as he exited the room.

Ori spun quickly, frowning at the floor. “Bilbo, I would really appreciate it if you didn't mention any of this to Dori. I really don't want to tell him yet.”  
Bilbo nodded. “Of course, Ori. I won't say a word.”

* * * * *

Bilbo liked Dori. The dwarf was polite and proper, if a bit overwhelming in his good nature, and he got on with Bilbo quite well. At the moment, the dwarf was bustling about, measuring the hobbit's feet and muttering about the width of pant legs, then turning to grab this bolt of cloth or that and hold it against Bilbo's skin. 

The room they stood in was small, and the walls were lined with shelves of bolts cloth, sewing needles and pins, spools of thread, anything you could possibly need to clothe any member of the kingdom. 

On the far wall from the door stood a writing desk, where Ori sat taking notes as Dori called out numbers to him. Inseams and sleeve lengths and what have you, though honestly Bilbo didn't understand why all this was necessary, as Ori had taken his measurements already the day before. However, as Dori had pointed out, a few minor measurements were still needed, though he was sure to thank Ori at length for doing the majority of the measuring. 

“I'm so glad Ori thought to bring you to me. Wouldn't do to have you wandering the mountain with nothing fitting to wear. The king's coronation is coming up, and I'm sure you would like something special made?”

“Oh, erm...” Bilbo floundered a bit, but Dori's warm smile settled him.  
“Yes. Yes I would very much like that.”

“It would be my pleasure, Master Baggins.” Dori set his supplies down and helped Bilbo off the pedestal. “You're all set then! Would you care for tea before you go? I have biscuits on that should be done any time now.”

“Yes please, that would be lovely,” Bilbo cheerfully followed the dwarf out into the family room, Ori trailing along behind. 

Dori's biscuits were delightful, and Bilbo was sure to mention it. Dori preened, clearly quite proud of his skills in the kitchen, as well as his sewing ability. 

“So,” Bilbo began, brushing crumbs from his fingers, “Nori is also your brother?” he asked Ori as Dori poured himself another cup of tea. 

“Yes. Nori is... a free spirit,” Ori said hesitantly.  
Dori raised a disapproving eyebrow.  
“You mean a trouble maker. At least, he was.”  
Dori retook his seat, pulling the cream and sugar close.  
“Now he seems to be turning over a new leaf, though he's sure to find trouble wherever he goes at any rate, regardless of what the king has him investigating.”

“What sort of things does he investigate?” Bilbo asked casually.  
Dori frowned and exchanged glances with Ori.  
“Honestly, I'm not sure. He's quite secretive really. Though I suppose the king requires his discretion.”  
Bilbo nodded. “Understood. Probably a good thing, that.”

The rest of their time was spent with Dori sharing stories of raising his brothers, mischievous Nori and curious Ori causing all sorts of mayhem for the eldest Ri. Bilbo could tell the older dwarf loved his brothers, and he'd sacrificed much to see their needs met. 

By the time Bilbo left, he and Dori were getting on as close friends, and he felt completely embraced by the Ri family, aside from Nori. From what Bilbo recalled of the dwarf, he was a shifty sort, and made the hobbit quite nervous. 

Bilbo smiled to himself thinking of his new friends as he made his way through the mountain halls, Gloin taking up pace at his back. It occurred to him that the guard had stood outside the Ri brothers apartments for hours on end, waiting patiently for Bilbo to emerge. 

“Master Gloin?” Bilbo asked, slowing his pace and turning to face his protector.  
“Yes Master Baggins?” the guard looked quite curious at being addressed by the hobbit.  
“Do you have a family?”

The guards face lit up in a rare smile.  
“Why yes! A wife and a son, as a matter of fact. Here, I'll show you.”  
With that, the ginger haired dwarf pulled out a locket and flipped it open. He turned it so Bilbo could see the depictions of his wife and son set in the inside of the gold locket.

“Lovely, Master Gloin.” Bilbo looked up at the dwarfs face. “Do you get to spend much time with them?”  
“Oh yes. Evenings and such. A couple days here and there, when I'm off duty. You should meet my boy, Gimli. Strapping lad. Already growing in the startings of a beard!”  
“I'm sure he's quite wonderful. And your wife too.”  
“Aye. Ain't no dwarrowdam as can match the likes of her. You'd be hard put to find any who could contend with her beauty. Smart, too.”

Bilbo nodded. Perhaps he would just have to meet Gloin's family. Dwarves, it seemed, were surprisingly more pleasant than hobbits.

* * * * *

“I can't believe we have found nothing,” Thorin grumbled.  
He sat once again in the council room, his expression resigned as he contemplated the table before him. He was at a loss. There was still no evidence pointing to who had killed the archer, or who had attempted to kill the king. Balin and Dwalin sat across from him, and Dis sat quietly at his side.

“Thorin, please, we will find something!”  
Balin attempted to placate the irate monarch.

“If we haven't found anything yet, what makes you think that will change any time soon? We don't even have enough evidence to arrest Bilbo's attackers!” Thorin stood and began pacing his usual path across the back of the room.

“If I may, Your Highness?”  
Dwalin glanced up at his friend and king, who stopped his restless motion to meet his eye.  
“Ya need to ask him, Thorin. Ya need to ask Bilbo who hurt him.”

“He's right, laddie,” Balin agreed.

“I know you want to spare Master Baggins the pain, but he's already agreed to testify. If he's willing to tell you what happened, we can possibly make a move to imprison the guilty party, before they hurt someone else.”  
Dis was ever the voice of reason, and Thorin knew she would not suggest anything she thought might hurt the hobbit. His sister had become quite fond of Bilbo, and would only have his best interest at heart.

“Very well. I will ask him.”

* * * * *

Thorin entered the royal chambers, clearly lost in thought. The fire crackled cheerfully, mocking his somber mood, and Bilbo sat between Fili and Kili on the comfortable couch, looking as though he belonged there. Thorin supposed that at this point, he did. He stood off to the side as watched as the three rose, and Bilbo embraced each of Thorin's nephews, softly bringing their foreheads together as he bade them good night. 

“Oh! Thorin! I was about to turn in,” Bilbo exclaimed as his eyes found the dwarf lurking in the shadows near the door. His face fell as he noticed the kings demeanor.  
“Thorin? Is everything alright?”

Thorin made a pained face and rubbed at his forehead with his fingertips.  
“It's... Bilbo, we need to talk.”

Well that couldn't bode well. Bilbo frowned and followed the king into his bed chambers, throwing a concerned look at the brothers on the couch. They shrugged in response, clearly they would not be of any help in this... whatever this was going to be.

Thorin held the door open, and carefully shut it behind Bilbo. The hobbit stopped to fidget nervously in the center of the room.

“Please, come sit with me.”  
Thorin gestured to the chair across from the one he was currently heading for, and Bilbo timidly did as was requested and took the seat.

“Thorin?” Bilbo's voice was uneven, dripping with uncertainty. Thorin was hit with the memory of the night they first met. How frightened and hurt the hobbit had been. It suddenly dawned on him that not only would this conversation be hard on Bilbo, but it would be next to impossible for him as well.

Mahal help him.

“Bilbo, I don't want to ask this of you, but at this point, I am running out of options. The dwarves responsible for your capture and injuries will continue to run free unless I have reasonable grounds to imprison them,” Thorin began.

Bilbo's posture tensed even more at the mention of the officers, but he nodded thoughtfully at Thorin. “What do you need?”

“This is not going to be easy, but you're going to have to give me names or descriptions of the dwarves who hurt you. Without them, I cannot arrest any of the officers in question with what little I have to go on.”  
Bilbo swallowed and nodded his understanding.  
“Do you happen to have any names of the dwarves who hurt you?”

Bilbo turned his head away from Thorin, lowering his gaze as he pinched his eyes shut. He licked his lips and worked his mouth around a couple times, as though the words were fighting to remain unsaid.

“There were several of them. None of them were kind. It's hard to remember names, the memories are a bit hazy now.” 

Bilbo furrowed his brow in thought.

“One of them started with a T. Tamir? And one sounded similar to Gloin, but longer. With an M in it.” Bilbo looked over as Thorin nodded, clearly recognizing who those dwarves were.

“ And Bolorin. Captain Bolorin. He was- he was the worst.”  
Bilbo shook his head, lifting his gaze to the ceiling.  
“He did my feet.”  
The hobbits face was thoughtful as he turned it towards the hearth. The flames danced in his eyes as he went still, seeing things Thorin didn't want to contemplate. 

“He said he was curious. I had made it through mountain and forest without any boots. Exactly how thick are hobbit's soles?”  
Bilbo licked his lips and swallowed thickly.  
“He put his sword in the campfire and ordered a few of the others to hold me down. It was dark. And they held me so tight I could scarcely breathe. I couldn't see what was happening.”

Bilbo swallowed again, then took an uneven breath.

“Then my foot felt as though it had caught fire. Searing pain so intense I couldn't think of anything else. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. They muffled my screams so the other soldiers wouldn't hear.  
Not that it would've mattered. They never helped. Never stopped the officers. They turned away and pretended not to see.”  
Bilbo's empty voice trailed off at the sound of wood splintering. He shook himself and looked over at Thorin.

Thorin's grip on the arms of his chair had tightened hard enough to break the wood under his palms. His eyes were pinched shut, jaw clenched against the fires of an anger more intense than any he'd ever known. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo's concerned voice broke through, and blue eyes flew open. They softened in sadness as they met Bilbo's tear filled gaze. 

Thorin released his grip, letting the splintered wood fall to the floor. He unclenched his jaw, and was surprised to find his face was wet. He wiped at his cheeks in confusion, then looked up at Bilbo, who was standing before him hesitantly.

Thorin reached out slowly, taking Bilbo's hands in his own. He gently pulled Bilbo close and carefully helped him up onto his lap. Bilbo settled in against Thorin's chest and buried his face in the curtain of dark hair at the dwarf's shoulder. He didn't know when he had begun to cry, or how long he stayed wrapped in the safety of Thorin's arms. But after his tears had run out, he fell into an exhausted sleep.

Thorin sat for a long while, listening to Bilbo's uneven breathing. After the fire had died down, he carried Bilbo to bed and tucked him in. Then he took his place on the lounge, laying awake as his mind filled and sifted through troubled thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I become more of a sap with every chapter.  
> Let me know what you think! I love hearing from you, you are all awesome!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More feels, an angry hobbit, and then even more feels. Can't get much better, can it?
> 
> Enjoy!

“Thorin! Thorin, help!”

The dwarf was yanked from his uneasy sleep by Bilbo's screams. He flung off his blanket and rushed to the bedside where the hobbit tossed and turned, calling Thorin's name.

“Bilbo?” Thorin tried to gently wake the hobbit, but Bilbo only seemed to thrash harder.  
“Thorin!”  
“Bilbo, wake up! It's me! It's Thorin!”

Bilbo's eyes flew open and he stared at the dwarf fearfully, eyes wild and unseeing. After a moment, his gaze cleared and his panic subsided and he flung his arms around Thorin's neck. He clung to the king, tremors wracking his frame as the nightmare loosened its hold.

“Please, please lay with me again tonight?” Bilbo sobbed into Thorin's shoulder.  
“Of course. Of course I'll lay with you.”

Thorin sat and held Bilbo as the hobbit's sobs wracked his frame. He rubbed one hand along Bilbo's back and the other through his hair until Bilbo quieted. The hobbit pulled away and wiped at his eyes hurriedly.  
“I'm sorry Thorin,” Bilbo whispered as the king handed him a handkerchief. “I don't mean to be such a burden.”  
Thorin laid a hand on Bilbo's back and leaned down to meet his eyes.  
“You are never a burden.” He laid down and beckoned Bilbo to join him.  
Bilbo smiled half heartedly and laid at Thorin's side, cuddling in and falling into an exhausted sleep almost immediately.  
Thorin couldn't begin to even attempt to sleep until he heard the hobbit's soft snores. Then he buried his nose in the silk of Bilbo's curls and let himself drift off.

* * * * *

Bilbo had just finished his bath when Oin showed up, and the old healer tended to him quickly, reassuring them both that the hobbit's wounds were healing just fine. 

Breakfast was a quiet affair, and Thorin was sure not to mention the nights events as he and Bilbo ate their fill. He was staring vacantly at the rug on the floor, when Bilbo cleared his throat.

“Thorin?” Bilbo's voice was strained, the dwarf assumed a night of crying would do that.  
“Thorin, are you... what are your plans today?”  
Thorin swallowed and tried to find a delicate way to answer.  
“Dis and Fili and I will be meeting with Balin, Dwalin, and Oin, taking the necessary steps to... make a few arrests.”

Bilbo nodded to the floor.

“Bilbo, you will have to come with me. I will need you to verify my claims of the crimes committed against you, with others there to witness.”

Bilbo exhaled and visibly relaxed. “Good.”  
Thorin gave him a questioning look, and was all the more confused when the hobbit blushed.  
“I- I didn't want you to leave today. I can't explain it, but I feel... better when you're around.”

Thorin chuckled and muttered to himself.  
“What was that?”  
“Are you ready to go?” Thorin stood as he quickly changed the subject.  
“Oh. Why yes, yes I believe I am.” He got up and followed Thorin to the door. 

The walk to the council chamber was a bit further than the library, and Thorin could feel Bilbo tense against his side as they roamed away from familiar halls. He took up the hobbits hand and gave him a reassuring smile, which Bilbo returned half heartedly.

They inspired a lot of odd looks as they strode through the mountain hand in hand, and Thorin was proud to see that Bilbo did not cower under the scrutiny. With Thorin's hand wrapped comfortingly around his own, Bilbo walked with his head held high, even as his jaw clenched with nerves. 

They reached the council chamber, and Bilbo was relieved to see the familiar faces seated around the table. All but the white haired dwarf, who Bilbo assumed was Balin. Though his association with Thorin and Dwalin gave Bilbo the confidence to trust the old advisor easily. 

“Master Baggins, it's so good to see you,” Dis said warmly as she rose to meet Bilbo. She set her hands on his shoulders, gently touching their foreheads together.  
“And you, Lady Dis.”  
“It has been some time since I last spoke with you. We've all been quite busy of late,” Dis spoke easily as she took Bilbo's arm in her own and led him to his seat, leaving Thorin to follow.  
“It has not been easy around here, what with Thorin's frequent headaches and dizzy spells.”

Dis grinned mischievously at her brother over Bilbo's head, and the hobbit turned to give Thorin a concerned look.  
“Headaches? Are you unwell, Thorin?”  
Bilbo's head turned quickly to the group around the table as Fili and Dwalin muffled chuckles in their fists.  
“Did I miss something?” Bilbo turned back to Thorin.  
“It's nothing. I'm quite well, I assure you.” Thorin scowled at his unruly family, and they had the good grace to quiet down.

“Now laddie, I assume you know why you're here,” Balin effectively changed the subject, leveling Bilbo with an apologetic look.

“Yes. I have the general idea, anyway.” Bilbo looked at Thorin, who was now seated across the table from him. “What must I do?”  
“You and Oin must simply verify the information I share is correct, and answer a few questions. Balin and Dwalin are our witnesses, to assure that I am not forging my own version of events. Are you ready?”

Bilbo nodded and swallowed thickly.

“Bilbo Baggins, were you were forcibly taken from your home in Hobbiton by dwarven officers?”  
“Yes.”  
“And those officers brought you here against your will?”  
Bilbo swallowed again.  
“Yes.”  
“Oin, you were witness to the wounds Master Baggins acquired on his journey here?”  
“Yes,” the old healer answered.  
“Master Baggins, do you remember any names of the officers who injured you?”  
Bilbo closed his eyes and swallowed.  
“Yes.”

The door slammed open, effectively gaining the attention of the room. Lieutenant Raburk marched into the chamber, a flustered Gloin sputtering apologies from behind him.

“I'm so sorry Your Majesty, he insisted on seeing you immediately.”  
“Peace, Gloin.”  
Thorin turned to the intruder.  
“What is it that has driven you to interrupt an official meeting, Raburk?” Thorin spat the dwarves name like a curse.  
“King Thorin, I have come to give you information regarding the recent murder,” Raburk looked frazzled, and his eyes kept jumping between Thorin and the hobbit.

Thorin frowned and looked at Bilbo, gaging his reaction. Bilbo looked nearly green. He was slouching in his chair as though he wished he could hide under the table. Thorin got up and circled the room, dropping into a crouch at Bilbo's side.  
“Bilbo? What is it?” Thorin's voice was low, concern evident in the crease of his brow.

Bilbo turned to face Thorin, struggling to maintain control of his terror. His eyes were wide and unfocused as he forced himself to concentrate on Thorin's familiar face.  
“Bilbo, have you seen Lieutenant Raburk before?”  
Bilbo nodded jerkily. 

Thorin didn't need any more verification than that. He stood and faced the dwarf, standing partially in front of Bilbo protectively.  
“And what have you come to confess, Raburk? Clearly you made an impression on my friend Master Baggins here. Or did you simply come to rat out your conspirators?”

“Both, Your Highness. Please, I have come to confess, and I will share any information you ask for,” Raburk put a hand to his heart and bowed his head, waiting for his king's verdict.

Thorin turned his head slightly to check on Bilbo, who nodded numbly for Thorin to proceed.  
“Very well, Lieutenant. Now tell me, what part did you have to play in Master Baggins capture?”

“You know I was present when he was taken.”  
Thorin nodded. “And what harm did you inflict upon him while he was in your custody?”  
“I was responsible for keeping him from running away. I checked the binding of his wrists at every stop, and I bound his ankles at night.”  
Thorin grit his teeth.  
“Did it ever occur to you, Lieutenant, that the hobbits binds were unnecessarily tight?”

Raburk flinched.  
“Yes, yes it did.”  
He looked at Bilbo, who was peaking out from behind the king.  
“I'm sorry, Master Baggins.”  
He addressed his king again, “I only meant to earn King Thror's favor. I have never taken joy in the harm of others.”

Thorin assessed the dwarf.  
“Clearly you will do whatever it takes to obtain the trust and favor of your king. What other useful information can you give me?”  
“I have information regarding the other officers you questioned. I only ask for protection from them.”  
Thorin nodded. “Granted. Assuming your information proves useful.”

“Lieutenant's Tamir and Nuk assisted Captain Bolorin in the murder of the archer who came forward.”  
“You had no part in it?” Thorin asked seriously.  
“No. I would have nothing to do with it. They weren't very happy with me.”  
Thorin nodded. “And who is responsible for my attempted assassination?”

Raburk's eyebrows shot up in surprise.  
“There was an attempt on your life?”  
“Yes, though judging by that response, I would say you can't help with that one.”

Raburk shook his head.  
“If the others were behind it, they did not reveal their plans to me. After I refused to help them silence the young archer, they pulled away from me.”

“Alright then. Can you tell me who is to blame for Master Baggins injuries?”

Raburk nodded. “I think I can. Though I am not certain what all his injuries were.”

Bilbo surprised them both, jumping up and striding around Thorin to face Raburk himself.  
“Who was the dwarf who whipped me?”

Thorin's eyes were big as saucers as he watched Bilbo stare down the lieutenant.  
“Captain Bolorin,” Raburk replied, quick to recover.  
“And who were the two dwarves who bruised my ribs?”  
“Nuk and Tamir.”  
“Who tied me to the tree in the forests of Greenwood, leaving me to freeze in the rain?”  
Raburk flinched. “That was me.” He shook his head. “Again, I'm so sorry.”

“Well you should be! What would your mother think if she knew you were off torturing innocents in the wild? Leaving them out in the rain and treating them worse than livestock?”

Raburk's brow furrowed and he looked at Bilbo as though he'd never seen him before.  
“I- I don't know what she would think.”  
“I'm sure she would not be impressed!” Bilbo accused angrily, before he turned to Thorin. “And what are you going to do with this brute? And the horrid dwarves he's associated with?”

Thorin shook his head, trying to recover from this interesting development.  
“I intend to arrest them?” Thorin looked over at the sound of Dis and Fili's muffled laughter. 

“Well, get to it then! Dwalin I assume he's going to need you for this part,” Bilbo turned and found his seat again, flopping down onto the cushion. He crossed his arms and looked at the dwarves expectantly. When nobody moved, he gave Dwalin a pointed look, gesturing towards the Lieutenant.

“Oh. Oh!” Dwalin jumped to his feet, moving to Thorin's side.  
“Lieutenant Raburk, I'm going to have to take you to the dungeons for the capture and mistreatment of a civilian, pending your formal hearing. Will you come quietly?”  
Raburk nodded, folding his hands in front of him and waiting to be led away.

Thorin and Dwalin led Raburk to the door. Thorin stopped and turned back to Dis.  
“Namad? See to it that Bilbo makes it back to the rooms?”  
Dis nodded, her lips still quirked in an amused grin.  
“Bilbo, will you be alright?”  
“Of course, I'll be fine, now go arrest those miscreants.”

Thorin smiled and nodded to the feisty hobbit, then ducked out the door. The moment the latch clicked home, Balin, Fili, and Dis burst into laughter, leaving Bilbo to look from one to the other in puzzlement.

“I fail to see what's so humorous,” the serious tone in Bilbo's voice only caused Fili to snort as he laughed even harder. Dis and Balin managed to find a bit more decorum, calming themselves to soft chuckles.

“I have never seen anyone take such control of a room before,” Dis explained. She turned to Balin. “Did you see Thorin's face?” The dwarrowdam succumbed to laughter again, holding a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

Balin wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.  
“Aye, and my brother was nearly as dumbfounded.”  
The old dwarf leveled Bilbo with a sincere look.  
“You will be good for the king, laddie. And you'll have no trouble fitting right in at court.”

Bilbo's eyes widened at the insinuation, but before he could ask, Dis and Fili were at his side, leading him out of the room. They ushered him out into the hall, and they began the trek back to the rooms.

“Dis? What was Balin talking about? When he said I would be good for Thorin?”

Dis glanced back, exchanging a knowing look with Fili.  
“Thorin is very fond of you, Master Baggins.”  
Bilbo frowned.  
“He cares for you.”  
Bilbo's frown deepened.  
“Surely you can't mean... no. No, no, we will not be having this conversation.”  
Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest and Fili muffled another chuckle into his fist, earning him a disgruntled look.

“I can't even consider such things. Thorin is... well he's the king! Surely there are requirements for one intending to....” Bilbo trailed off, unwilling to complete his statement.

Dis gave him an amused look.

“What?! I can't- There is no sense in even entertaining these ridiculous ideas! I don't want to hear another thing about it!”

Even as he made the declaration, Bilbo found himself drowning in his own imaginings. It wasn't a far reach from where he and Thorin were at now, save for a few physical aspects Bilbo would be more than eager to explore. 

No no no, this was absurd. Thorin was his friend, his dear friend, who Bilbo was more than happy to keep as a friend. Surely the push for anything... romantic would only complicate their friendship. Not to mention, Bilbo already had a soul mate out there somewhere, and to find them while entertaining romance with another would be unbearable. 

But what if Thorin was his soul mate? What if Bilbo's strange mark was a symbol of the dwarf, and they were destined to each other already?

Bilbo shook his head. He could not be entertaining such ridiculous ideas at a time like this. Thorin was going to confront dangerous dwarves, intent on arresting them and putting them soundly behind bars, where they couldn't hurt anyone ever again. And speaking of which...

“Why didn't anyone tell me about the murder?” Bilbo looked from Fili to Dis accusingly.

“Thorin was concerned,” Fili started, “you were... fragile, I think was the term he used.”

“Fragile?!” Bilbo had stopped walking, now staring at Fili with evident irritation.  
“What in the name of...” Bilbo began walking again, picking up pace so Fili had to rush to catch up.  
“I am not some delicate little flower, in danger of swooning at any second from hearing bad news!”

Fili decided it would be rude to point out how very close Bilbo had been to exactly that when he had first arrived. Instead, he followed Bilbo into the royal chambers. Dis held the door for them, raising an eyebrow with a smirk as Fili met her eye.

Bilbo strode over the the fireplace, turning with his hands on his hips and the dwarves followed him across the room. He was suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed at having taken over the council room like that.

“I'm sorry. I lost my temper a bit back there. Nobody owes me any explanations. It is none of my business how dwarves run their kingdom.”

“Don't be sorry, Bilbo,” Dis hushed him as she led him to sit on the couch. “We all see you as family, and as such, this kingdom is as much yours as it is ours.”

Bilbo sighed at the floor, letting Dis's words console him as they were intended to. He quirked a grin and glanced up a the dwarrowdam.  
“So you don't think I got a bit carried away?”

Dis laughed. “Mahal, no! That was absolutely priceless! I believe a firm hand pointed in the right direction is exactly what this kingdom needs.”

“I suppose I don't mind being the voice of reason,” Bilbo mentioned with a little chuckle of his own.

“Sometimes, that's exactly what the monarchy needs,” Dis put a hand on Bilbo's and they shared a warm look.

“I'll never forget the look on uncles face. Fragile indeed. You were very brave, Master Baggins,” Fili said as he dropped into a chair next to the couch.  
“Thank you Fili.”

The door opened, and the guard outside leaned in to address Bilbo.  
“Master Baggins, Ori is here to see you.”  
“Oh! Please, let him in!”

The guard stepped aside so Ori could enter, carrying his bag of books and spare parchment as always.

“Ori! Come, come sit with us. This is the Lady Dis, and Prince Fili.”  
Ori was thrilled when Dis and Fili both gave him traditional greetings in the form of skull cracking head butts, and he took a seat at Bilbo's other side.

“I'm not interrupting anything, am I?”  
“No, not at all. Fili and I were about to leave, at any rate. Thorin may need a bit of back up with his... current business,” Dis said as she rose from the couch.  
“You will be alright, Master Baggins?” she gave Bilbo a pointed look.  
“Yes, yes I will be fine here with Ori, thank you.” 

Dis leaned down to place a kiss at the top of Bilbo's head before leading Fili from the room.

“The Lady Dis kissed your head,” Ori said with a comically surprised look on his face.  
“Oh. Yes I suppose she did.”  
“I didn't realize you were so close with the royal family. I knew you and Prince Kili were good friends, and you were a guest of the king, but I didn't realize you were that close.”

Bilbo smiled to himself.  
“I suppose we have gotten quite close.”  
He contemplated this development for a moment, before realizing Ori was just as deep in thought as he was.

“What's on your mind, Ori?”  
The dwarf blushed, giving Bilbo a sidelong glance. “Can you keep a secret?”  
Bilbo narrowed his eyes curiously. “Of course I can.”  
“I have spent the last few days with Dwalin. When he's been off duty, of course.”

Bilbo wasn't surprised in the least. “Have you now? And... is there anything between you two?”  
“He is my One!” Ori gushed.  
“Ori I'm so happy for you!” Bilbo smiled at the love-struck dwarf. “Well, what happens now?”

Ori shrugged. “We have begun courtship.”

Bilbo looked at Ori curiously. “And what is involved in Dwarven courtship?”

“Well first, a dwarf will craft a bead for their intended, and formally request to weave it into a braid of intent. If the intended accepts, the bead set, and a kiss begins the bond. Gifts are exchanged after a time. Then, if the intended is willing to bond for life, they braid the other with a marriage bead of their own making.” 

Bilbo found his curiosity peaked, and he'd be lying if he said his thoughts hadn't strayed to a certain dwarf king.  
“What are Dwarven customs on courtship? Affection and all that.”

“Dwarves are surprisingly affectionate. Hand holding, kisses on the head or hands is common in public. Other stolen kisses and such in private.”

“And sex?”

Ori blushed at the subject, but otherwise kept his composure.  
“When a couple decides they want to wed. It is the final act that seals the bond. Most wait until after their marriage is official, but it is not unusual for a couple to decide to... be... intimate... before. As long as they are certain of their intent to stay together.”

Bilbo frowned in confusion. “Why can't a couple just seal the bond after the spark is experienced? They are soul mates, after all.”

“Do hobbits not have similar courting customs? After all, you have soul mates as well,” Ori asked, his own curiosity peaked.

Bilbo shrugged. “I suppose so. When you find the one who fits your mark, courtship is more for enjoyment and getting to know each other than anything else. And a hobbit may court many, just for the fun of it before meeting their soul mate. But such courtships never get too serious.”

“Dwarven courtship is more to show respect towards your partner and get to know each other. And, just because two dwarves are soul mates does not necessarily mean they will wed. Some choose not to wed at all, and the two dwarves simply don't seal the bond and instead cut it off. Though they usually stay friends as the urge to be close still remains, it just isn't as strong.  
And a stronger courtship makes a more thorough bond. Think of it like sewing. You can hastily scrap two pieces together, and they will hold. But when done carefully stitch by stitch, the bond is stronger.”

Bilbo nodded. He really was a romantic at heart, and the turn his thoughts had taken were tying his stomach in knots and leaving his mouth dry. It was a feeling he was not ready to allow himself to analyze, and he was determined not to let these kinds of thoughts take root.

“A book! We should pick a book,” Bilbo announced awkwardly as he sprang up from the couch. 

The next several hours were spent looking through far more texts than Bilbo had studied at one time in his life. He was set on keeping himself distracted, and judging by Ori's knowing looks, he was not at all fooled.

* * * * *

Bilbo lay awake under the thick furs of Thorin's bed. He had been unable to fall asleep, his fantasies sparked from the days discussions unfurling without his consent. Thoughts of shared smiles and warm looks. Soft touches and heated kisses laced with possibility. 

Being close to Thorin had always brought him comfort. Comfort, and the longing of something Bilbo had always refused to give attention to. He knew he felt different the nights when Thorin lay next to him. Calm. Warm. He sighed and gathered his courage, his mind made up.

Bilbo sat up, his eyes adjusting a bit to the gloom of the vast room. The fire was dying out, but the embers remained a faint glow at the edge of the room. Despite the darkness, he had no trouble picking out Thorin on the lounge across from him, as the skylight was set right above the dwarf. Thorin was illuminated by the pale shine of the moon, his face nearly glowing in the silvery light. It reflected like shards of starlight against too blue eyes. 

Bilbo's breath caught in his throat and the words died on his tongue as he realized those eyes were focused intently on his. He swallowed a few times, then cleared his throat.  
“Thorin?” Bilbo winced when his voice came out like a croak.  
“What is it Bilbo?” Of course Thorin's voice would sound enticing and gravely, temptation in the dark.  
“Would- would you...” Bilbo swallowed again. “Would you lay with me tonight?”

It took every bit of Thorin's control to hide the feral grin that curled his lips as the hobbit beckoned him. He knew there was no intent in Bilbo's request beyond the need to feel safe and protected. He schooled his features as he crossed the room, determined to maintain his control. 

Bilbo moved over, making room for the dwarf as Thorin climbed into the bed. They lay silently on the pillows, neither daring to move as their eyes met. They gazed at each other, each frozen in his own thoughts, unable to voice them. 

Bilbo gave in first, scooting closer to Thorin and burrowed under the dwarf's chin. Thorin smiled to himself and tucked an arm around the hobbit, pulling him into his chest and the two fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore each and every one of you! I know, I know, always say things like that. But really, my appreciation for all of your comments and kudos has no bounds.  
> Love to you all!!!  
> More soon!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the coronation! Again, I have taken creative liberties that are probably not the most amazing, but hey, it leaves room for more important things. Like pining. And flirting. And... stuff.  
> Enjoy!

Thorin's eyes flickered open at the sound of a light tapping on the door. He made to get up, before realizing his arms were full of hobbit. Bilbo was curled in against Thorin's chest, his light breath tickling the skin of the dwarf's throat.

“Thorin?” Dis's voice whispered as the door creaked open. Her eyes quickly found Thorin's, and her amused smirk earned her a warning glare. 

A warning she was apparently choosing to ignore.

“Well, if I'd have known you were busy....” she chimed, her voice teasing and the twinkle in her eyes a familiar annoyance.

Thorin gave up on his attempt to scowl his sister into compliance, and dropped back down to the pillow with a groan.

Bilbo stirred, blinking owlishly up at Thorin, who couldn't help but grin at the sleep addled hobbit.

“Mmph...” Bilbo closed his eyes and buried his face in Thorin's shirt.  
Dis chuckled from the door.  
“So sorry to wake you, but Oin is here to see you Bilbo. There is also a Master Dori at the door. He says he has something for you. I assume it has something to do with the coronation that is taking place this morning....”

Thorin shot upright.  
“Durin's beard.”  
He threw off the covers and leapt from the bed. He rushed to the wardrobe to grab the special tunic and robes for the ceremony and darted in to take a quick bath.

Dis turned her gaze to the flummoxed hobbit, a knowing look playing about her face.  
“Dis, now don't get any ideas! Nothing- there is nothing-”  
Dis threw her hands up. “I was not going to say a word.”  
She turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “Join us for breakfast when Oin is through with you.”

The old healer pushed his way into the room, rushing over to the bedside with bag in hand.  
“Late morning, eh laddie?” Oin bounced his eyebrows suggestively at the hobbit, causing Bilbo to blush.

“Oh for the- there is nothing going on between Thorin and I!” Bilbo yelled indignantly.

Oin raised an eyebrow and gave Bilbo the hint of a grin.  
“Of course not.”  
Bilbo groaned, crossing his arms over his face and flinging himself back against the pillows. Oin paid him no mind, pulling up the blanket to get a good look at Bilbo's foot.

“I think you're all set here, laddie. I don't feel there's a need to wrap this one again.”

Bilbo smiled and glanced up at the healer, his previous irritation momentarily forgotten.  
Oin grinned. “Let's check your back.”

Bilbo turned his back to the healer and pulled up his shirt.

“These look good too, though I must insist you continue applying the salve. I can leave a jar of it for ya. Perhaps Thorin would be willing to help you apply it.”

Bilbo scowled over his shoulder as the healer smoothed on a layer of the sharp scented salve. Again his aggravation was ignored, and Oin set a jar on the bedside table and packed up to leave. 

“Let me know if any swelling or redness develops, or if the wounds feel hot to the touch or start seeping. Take care, Master Baggins. And don't be afraid to send for me if you need me.”  
“Thank you, Oin,” Bilbo called as the healer took his leave.

Bilbo's stomach made its demands for breakfast known, and he hopped down off the bed to get dressed and go search out some food. He stopped and turned to answer the door when there was a hesitant knock, and found Dori on the other side.

“Master Baggins? I have your outfit for the coronation today,” Dori offered a bundle out to Bilbo, Dis standing at his shoulder.  
“I hope you don't mind, I requested a few changes,” the dwarrowdam added.

Bilbo frowned looking down at the bundle, then lifted his gaze back to the expectant faces before him. 

“Erm... I guess I'll just... go try these on, then,” Bilbo closed the door and went to free his outfit from its brown paper wrappings. He placed the package on the bed, and carefully unwrapped the bundle.

The trousers were gray, and slightly longer than Bilbo normally wore, but still shorter than dwarven trousers. The fabric was soft, and the fit was slightly snug, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Bilbo pulled on the cream button up shirt, and was thrilled to find braces much like his own. He secured his trousers and grabbed the waistcoat, laying it out to admire. 

The waistcoat was pale gray, covered in embroidered cream flowers. The buttons, Bilbo was sure, were made of solid gold. He lifted it reverently, pulling it on and looked down to admire the needlework. 

It was beautiful. 

Bilbo was just pulling the Durin blue jacket out to admire, when there was a soft noise from across the room. He turned and found Thorin, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, hair wet, and dressed in an ensemble suspiciously similar to Bilbo's. His pants were the same shade of gray, and his tunic cream in color. In his hands he held a coronation mantle that matched Bilbo's jacket. And he was staring openly, mouth agape at the hobbit.

“You look....” Thorin worked his mouth clumsily, struggling to find the words. 

“I-” Bilbo's eyes roved over the king, his mouth suddenly quite dry. He caught himself staring, then he quickly turned away and grabbed his jacket. “I was just going to find breakfast....” 

Bilbo nearly ran to the door, his hands fumbling over the latch. A larger hand reached over his arm, opening the door easily for the flustered hobbit, and the two entered the sitting room. 

Dis and the princes were sitting before the hearth, all dressed in their best with matching Durin blue robes. 

“Master Boggins! Uncle! We've saved you some breakfast!” Kili shouted cheerfully over the back of the couch as he leapt up to make room.

Thorin sat in Kili's place, but was unable to bring himself to even touch the food. He was a nervous mess. He sat and scowled at the floor, hands ever moving in his lap. Bilbo, however, had no such issue. He sat quite content in the squashy armchair to the side and ate his fill of what was left. He was licking honey from his fingers, when the room went silent.

Dis stood, ushering Thorin to sit on the floor as she took the seat on the couch behind him. She pulled out a comb, and began working it through Thorin's damp ebony waves. 

Bilbo sat quietly, feeling as though he were intruding on a private moment. The air was suddenly thick with the feeling of ceremony. He watched as Dis sectioned out her brother's hair reverently and began to braid. The pattern was intricate, but Dis's hands wove the strands together with practiced skill. She smoothed the first plait, setting the beads Thorin wore every day along with a few Bilbo had never seen in Thorin's silver streaked hair. 

“Traditionally,” Dis began, clearly wanting to explain this phenomenon to the confused hobbit, “the future king's mother or father is the one to put in the braids and beads before coronation. However, since we have neither, I have stepped in to do so.” She again smoothed a hand over the beads she had set. “These represent the skills Thorin has mastered,” she held out a hand with two more golden beads in it, “and these are symbols of his lineage.”

“I didn't know a dwarf's beads held so much meaning,” Bilbo said softly.  
“As do his braids. These more intricate braids are to indicate Thorin's rank. He probably won't wear them every day, but for special occasions, it is best they are in place.”  
Bilbo nodded, glad to get more information about the dwarves he had come to regard as his family.

“You will come to the coronation?” Thorin asked, glancing at Bilbo nervously.  
“Of course!” Bilbo exclaimed, confused by Thorin's uncertainty.  
“And, you will be alright?”  
Bilbo sighed, finally understanding the dwarf's concerned tone.  
“Yes. Ori has invited me to sit with them, so as not to draw too much attention to myself. I'm certainly not looking to be the center of anyones attention.”

Thorin smiled as Dis secured the end of the last braid with a golden clasp.  
“I will be glad to know you are there. Dis and I must go now to see to the final details. Fili and Kili can escort you. Their presence will be required shortly.”

Bilbo nodded as Thorin and Dis left the room, the king shooting an affectionate smile over his shoulder as he closed the door behind them.

Kili turned to face Bilbo, his eyes alight with glee and the quirk of a smile on his lips.  
“So, Master Boggins, how goes the wooing of my uncle?”  
Bilbo sputtered and groaned in annoyance at the young prince.  
“I am not attempting to woo your uncle!”

Kili raised an eyebrow.  
“No, no Kili, don't look at me like that!”  
Kili's smile grew into a knowing laugh.  
“I understand if you wish to keep your relationship a secret.”  
“Kili!”

Bilbo threw a pillow at the now cackling dark haired prince, before noticing Fili was not joining in his younger brother's ribbing.  
“Fili? You're awfully quiet this morning,” Bilbo pressed.  
Fili nodded absently.

Kili rolled his eyes. “He's nervous. When Uncle is crowned king, Fili will be titled as his official heir. He's decided to become all broody and stoic over it.”  
Fili slapped his brother's leg as Kili laughed again.

“You are incorrigible.”  
Kili nodded solemnly.  
“Yes, nadad, so I am. And you are the one who has to put up with me.” He let a smile light up his face again. “Good thing I am not to be named heir, as the kingdom would surely fall to ruin under my rule.”

Fili finally allowed himself a chuckle. “Too right you are, nadadith. But we should really be going now. Are you ready, Master Baggins?”

Bilbo stood up and pulled on his jacket.  
“Yes, I believe I am-” he stopped abruptly as his fingers smoothed over a patch on his jacket front. It looked quite familiar, in a way that had Bilbo's breath catching and his face paling a bit.

“Master Baggins? Are you well?” Fili's voice pulled in Bilbo's attention, and he looked up at the concerned faces trained on him.  
“Um, yes. Yes I'm fine. Just- what does this... this symbol mean?”  
“That's Thorin's seal,” Fili said with a frown, “why do you ask?”  
“Just- just curious. It's- very interesting.”  
Fili and Kili exchanged confused looks.  
“Shall we?” Bilbo shook himself and strode to the door, waiting for the princes to follow, and they exited the rooms together. 

* * * * *

The throne room was full when Bilbo and the princes arrived. Ori was waiting just outside the door, and he smiled and waved Bilbo over. 

Fili and Kili rubbed their foreheads against Bilbo's and ushered him off to sit with Ori, before striding in to stand at Thorin's side next to the throne.

Bilbo followed Ori to a row in the back, where Dori and Nori awaited them.  
“Master Baggins, glad to see everything fit!” Dori took Bilbo's hand and pulled him in for a gentle head butt.  
“Yes, thank you, Master Dori!”

Nori leaned around his older brother and gave the hobbit an assessing look. “Hello Master Baggins. I hope you are well?”

“Y-yes. I am, thank you.” Bilbo turned to the front as the room quieted down with the arrival of Dis. She walked with poise and confidence to the front of the room, holding a deep blue velvet pillow. On top of the pillow sat a silver crown set with dark blue sapphires. Bilbo watched as Dis took her place, standing before the throne. Thorin walked around to stand before her, and knelt down on one knee.

“Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, do you swear to govern the kingdom of Erebor fairly, according to the laws set forth by our ancestors, and protect your subjects, putting their needs before your own?”  
“I swear to govern the kingdom to the best of my ability, putting her first in all I do.”  
“Then it is with pleasure that I crown you the official and indisputable rightful ruler of Erebor.” Dis set the crown reverently on Thorin's head. “Long live the king!”

“Long live the king!” the room repeated. Bilbo smiled proudly as Thorin stood before his subjects, their voices echoing through the vast chamber.

Fili came forward, bowing before Thorin.

“As king of Erebor, I officially name Fili, son of Vili as my successor.” He settled a smaller circlet on the prince's golden head, and Fili stood to face the room.  
“Long live Prince Fili!”  
The room again echoed the proclamation, followed by shouts and cheers as the royal family walked up the aisle and exited the room.

Bilbo jumped up as everyone began to siphon out of the room.  
“That was a very short ceremony. I was expecting it to be a bit more lavish,” he said to Ori as they made their way into the crowd.  
“The traditional coronation ceremonies of old lasted for two hours. Under the rule of King Nain II, it was shortened as the mountain was attacked by orcs during his coronation. Since every dwarf is required to attend, nobody was aware the mountain was under siege until after, and the orcs had already made their way into the mountain. The kingdom could have been overrun, if they hadn't been so lucky.”

Bilbo nodded in understanding. “So what happens now?”  
“Now we feast!” Ori exclaimed.  
“Doesn't that allow for possibility of attack if everyone is feasting?”  
“The guards aren't required to attend. They'll resume their posts while the rest of us eat.”  
Bilbo nodded again. “Well, if there's anything a hobbit knows how to do, it's eat!”  
He and Ori chuckled, as Dori guided them through the crowd.

Their progress was slow, as it seemed every dwarf in the mountain, and a fair few from other kingdoms, crowded every corridor leading to the Great Hall. 

They finally made it to the Great Hall, and took up a seat on the far end of the room, out of the worst of the excitement. Bilbo found himself incredibly anxious in such a large group of dwarves, much as he had grown fond of them. He settled in next to Ori and tucked in to the overflowing plate of food before him. 

It was fun to watch the dwarves as they danced and laughed and ate. Bilbo was glad to see them cutting loose and behaving much the way hobbits did at celebrations. His eyes trained onto Thorin, who was talking animatedly with a fierce looking dwarf with fiery red hair and tusks braided into his mustache. Thorin glanced up and his eyes met Bilbo's and he smiled warmly at the hobbit. He turned back to the dwarf next to him, bashed their foreheads together and hugged the terrifying looking dwarf. Then he turned and headed straight for Bilbo. 

“Bilbo, is that the king coming this way?” Dori asked over Ori's shoulder.  
“Yes. Yes it is.” Bilbo answered with a grin. He stood up and moved around the table to intercept the king.

“Bilbo, I'm so glad you're here,” Thorin said in a low voice, taking up the hobbit's hand.  
“I-I wouldn't have missed it for anything, Thorin,” Bilbo replied with a shy smile. He looked away at the intensity in Thorin's gaze, and something caught his eye. A dark flash from the large vent in the wall near the ceiling.

“Thorin look out!” Bilbo yelled as he flung himself bodily into the king.  
There was a moment of confusion, and Bilbo found himself laying on top of Thorin on the floor. He pushed himself up and noticed a tear in the dwarf's tunic, blood already beginning to stain the fabric. 

“Thorin! Thorin you're bleeding!” Bilbo was nearly hysterical as strong hands grabbed him and pulled him up into the arms of a solid dwarf who was not Thorin. He fought against them to get back to the king's side, until he realized it was Dwalin who held him. 

“Calm down, Bilbo. Oin is getting Thorin up, we'll get him out of here and check his wounds.” Dwalin pulled Bilbo in to hold him against his chest, sheltering him from potential attack.  
“I have to go to him! I have to help him! Thorin!” Bilbo was yelling over his shoulder as Dwalin wrestled him out of the room.

“Search the mountain!” Dwalin's voice boomed over Bilbo's head as they retreated from the gathering.

The guard let the hobbit go as soon as they had escaped the crowd, and Bilbo rushed to Thorin's side. Dwalin followed suit and took one of Thorin's arms over his shoulder in order to take some of his weight off of Oin, who was holding him up on the other side.

“Thorin, are you alright?” Bilbo was frantic as he attempted to look over Thorin and walk at the same time.  
“I'm fine, I'm alright,” Thorin reassured him.

Bilbo couldn't be convinced. Thorin's face was pale under a sheen of sweat. Bilbo pursed his lips and decided to wait until he could inspect Thorin properly. He followed hurriedly as Dwalin and Oin helped the king limp back to the royal chambers.

Bilbo shoved the bed chamber door open, holding it to allow the dwarves to enter, and he immediately ran to Thorin's side again. 

Bilbo's face screwed up in horror as he saw the red stain on Thorin's tunic had grown. The sight was momentarily obscured as Oin pulled the darker mantel from Thorin's shoulders, and Bilbo found himself pulling the tunic over Thorin's head and grasping at the thin undershirt as soon as the heavy article was removed. With trembling fingers, his hands found flesh and Thorin grunted in pain as Bilbo ripped his undershirt from his body, eager to assure himself that Thorin's wound was not life threatening. 

Dwalin and Oin watched as Bilbo frantically assessed the kings injuries. His hands shook as he carefully smoothed his finger along the edge of the wound. It was no more than a gash, and Oin exhaled in relief at the realization, though Bilbo obviously was not pleased. The hobbit's eyes were rimmed with unshed tears as he looked up at Thorin's face.

“Are you alright?” Bilbo asked softly.  
“I'm fine, thanks to you Bilbo. It's just a scratch.”  
Bilbo nodded jerkily, finally allowing himself to settle down, and leaned away to give Oin access to the wound. He turned away and took a few shaky breaths, willing his tears to stop. 

If he had not pushed the king out of the way... if that arrow had been fired at a slightly different angle....  
Bilbo pushed the thoughts from his mind and turned to watch Oin work. Once he was convinced Oin would be able to successfully dress Thorin's wound, his eyes began to wander across the dwarf's broad chest. Thorin really was glorious to behold, and Bilbo swallowed dryly as Dwalin moved out of the way so he could take in the view properly. Bilbo's eyes widened and his breath caught when he saw a marking on the skin over Thorin's heart.  
A very familiar marking.

Bilbo's face paled and his tremors started anew. His heartbeat was a roaring in his ears and he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs. He couldn't remember how he got there, but he was suddenly sitting on the floor nearly hyperventilating. 

“Bilbo? Bilbo, what's wrong?” Thorin's concerned voice sounded muffled to Bilbo's ears, and he shook his head and tried to stand.  
“I- everything is fine,” he said as he stumbled to his feet.  
“I just... I- I need a moment,” Bilbo mumbled as he quickly fumbled the door open and darted out of the room.

“Dwalin, follow him. Something is terribly wrong,” Thorin ordered.  
Dwalin didn't take the time to argue, and instead turned to do as his king had bid. There was no sign of Bilbo in the sitting room, and Dwalin figured he must've gone off into the mountain somewhere. Surely a little hobbit couldn't get far in just a few seconds.

Apparently he was wrong. Bilbo was nowhere to be found. Dwalin sent five of his men to scour the mountain for both Bilbo, and Thorin's would be killer. He headed back to Thorin's room, dreading having to deliver the news to the king that he was unable to find his hobbit.

* * * * *

Bilbo sat on the floor of the abandoned bed chamber. He was not certain whose rooms these had once been, but the emptiness was exactly what he needed.

This... this was entirely unexpected.  
No, that was a lie, and Bilbo knew it as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

If Bilbo were to be honest with himself, he had always sort of known Thorin was his soul mate. Or, his One. Whatever you wanted to call it. Well, he'd suspected anyway, though any time the thought occurred to him, he would snuff it out like a candle, assuming it was a silly idea brought on by his own longing.

The important question was, what was he going to do about it? He couldn't possibly go to Thorin and confess his undying love for him. The very thought was ridiculous. Nor could he sit here and do nothing, now that he knew he'd found his soul mate.

Bilbo jumped as the door opened, and soft footsteps entered the room.

“Bilbo?” Dis's voice was gentle, and judging by her tone, she already knew he was there.  
Bilbo closed his eyes and braced himself, deciding he had spent enough time hiding in the dark. He crawled out from under the covered table at the bedside and stood hesitantly, fidgeting with the hem of his waistcoat.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” Dis asked him, standing expectantly in the middle of the room.  
“No. To be honest Dis, I'm not quite ready to talk about it yet,” Bilbo answered bluntly.

Dis nodded in understanding.  
“Very well. But I must insist you return to Thorin's chamber. He has been beside himself with worry.”  
A heavy guilt settled in the pit of Bilbo's stomach.  
“How long have I been in here?”  
“Most of the day. It is far past dinner.”  
Bilbo sighed. He strode passed Dis and out in to the sitting room, where Fili and Kili were waiting anxiously.

“Master Boggins!” Kili exclaimed as the princes jumped up and ran to embrace their hobbit.  
“Are you alright?” Kili's worry warmed Bilbo, and he gave the princes both fond smiles.  
“I'm fine boys, really.”  
“Have you been in that room all day?”  
“What happened?”  
“Why did you run off?”

“That's enough! I'm sure Master Baggins will share his worries when he is ready. Now to bed. Both of you,” Dis's voice had that motherly tone she saved for special occasions, and so the boys didn't argue that they were far too old for bedtime. The two gently rubbed their foreheads to Bilbo's before pulling back to smile at him with relief. They kissed Dis on the cheek and headed for their rooms.

“I trust you won't need me to escort you to my brother?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“No. No I'm going,” Bilbo smiled as Dis kissed his forehead.  
“Go then,” she said, turning and making her way to her own chambers.

Bilbo walked over to the big stone door, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his courage. He pushed it open and found Thorin pacing before the fire. He took a few uncertain steps forward, closing the door behind him.

“Thorin?”  
The dwarf ran across the room, grabbing Bilbo by the shoulders and looked over him worriedly.  
“Are you alright? What happened? Where were you?”  
The concern in Thorin's tone only made Bilbo feel worse for the obvious anxiety he had caused.  
“I'm fine, Thorin, really. I was just- I- seeing you injured really... scared me. I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry for making you worry.”

Thorin pulled Bilbo into a bone crushing hug. “It's alright, Bilbo.”  
Bilbo buried his face in Thorin's hair and inhaled deeply, smiling into the dwarf's shoulder as his body relaxed and he melted into the warm embrace.  
“Please. Please don't do that again.”  
Bilbo nodded. “I won't. I promise.”

Thorin pulled back to look at Bilbo. “Come. Let us go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Thorin began moving toward the lounge, then he turned back to the hobbit.  
“Would you like for me to lay with you tonight?” he asked hesitantly.  
Bilbo nodded. “Yes. I would like that.”

They climbed in to bed, but Bilbo didn't take his usual place against Thorin's chest. Instead he laid down with his back to the dwarf, keeping a safe distance between them and he fretted and worried for most of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you liked.  
> More soon!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trial! Not an overly exciting chapter, but I promise it will pick up in the next one!  
> Please enjoy!

Bilbo was quiet the next morning, dreading what the day had in store. The trial was to be held that morning, and with Raburk's testimony, he would not have to do more than be there, and possibly confirm the Lieutenant's claims. But the thought of being in the vast court room, before all the nobles and much of the army, still made Bilbo feel as though he may vomit. The fact that he wasn't sure how to go about offering courtship to a king only made things worse. He picked at his breakfast, unable to bring himself to eat more than a few bites.

“Bilbo, are you alright?” Thorin had been watching the hobbit all morning, and knew there was more to Bilbo's disappearance the prior evening than simple concern for Thorin's well being. 

“I'm quite nervous. I'm not sure I'm entirely prepared to face those dwarves again.”  
Bilbo's voice was tight and Thorin could see the truth of the statement in the tense lines of the hobbit's shoulders and the clench of his jaw. He reached over, taking up one of Bilbo's hands in his own and brushing a finger over the smooth skin on the back of Bilbo's knuckles.

“You will do fine. And I will be there to be sure that you are. I will be at your side, where I can help you through.”  
Bilbo looked up at Thorin with the ghost of a smile playing about his lips.   
“Thank you.”

“Now, Oin told me I am to help you with your wounds. Where is the salve he left you?”

Bilbo's faced flushed and his eyes widened at the realization that yes, Thorin was correct, and there was no way for him to get out of it. How could he possibly be still under Thorin's hands? 

“Th-there. On the table,” Bilbo pointed at the bedside and Thorin got up to fetch the jar.   
Bilbo turned, arranging himself so his back would be to Thorin, and he swallowed thickly as the king approached, unscrewing the lid.

“Alright?” Thorin's voice was low, nearly a whisper at Bilbo's back. He could see the way the hobbit tensed further at his proximity.  
“Yes. Yes I'm alright,” Bilbo answered. He crossed his hands in front of him, grabbing his tunic at the hem and pulled it up and over his head, exposing the marred flesh of his back. 

Thorin squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head for a moment, still unable to let go of the anger the sight elicited. He had never been so close to the bare expanse of Bilbo's back, and it was a bit harder to quell his anger when the proof of the hobbit's suffering was so clearly displayed before him. He exhaled slowly, releasing a bit of his tension, and drug his fingers through the salve as a medicinal smell filled his nostrils from the jar. He looked up at Bilbo's back, feeling a little more in control, and considered where to begin. 

Thorin brought a hesitant hand up to the angry pink flesh between the hobbit's shoulder blades. He drug his fingers lightly over the wound, causing the muscles beneath his fingers to jump with Bilbo's sharp intake of breath. 

“Does it hurt?” Thorin asked uneasily, pulling his hand away.  
“N-no. No, it doesn't hurt,” Bilbo breathed.

Thorin's lips curled into a lopsided grin, sure he had an idea of what had caused the hobbit's breathlessness. He set back to his task, dragging his fingers over Bilbo's back, relishing every gasp and shiver his touch could elicit from the hobbit. Even after each half healed wound was covered, he continued, brushing his finger tips lightly over bare skin until Bilbo was nearly panting under his caress.

“Thorin...” Bilbo's voice was pleading, and it sent a jolt straight to Thorin's groin.

“Thorin?” Dis's voice from the door sent Bilbo's scrambling to pull on his tunic and Thorin groaned softly in annoyance. 

“So sorry to interrupt, but it is almost time.” Dis raised her eyebrows and gave Thorin a pointed look. 

Bilbo's stomach plummeted and he paled at the reminder.   
Thorin's hand settled softly on his shoulder. “You can do this. It will be over soon.”

* * * * *

The throne room was packed, every noble and member of the army present to witness the sentencing. Bilbo sat nervously at Thorin's side, perched on the smaller throne next to the king's and trying to make himself as small as possible as curious glances and pointing fingers were aimed his way. 

Thorin stood, and the room was silenced, far quicker than would seem possible. The king walked to the edge of the raised platform, eying the officers who stood before him. 

“My loyal subjects, let today mark the beginning of a new Erebor. An Erebor where we can band together, and trust one another. Where we expand through the strength of our unity. Be assured that I, your King, will do what I can to protect you, and that you need not fear maltreatment from me. 

I have called you here now, to witness the fair and just trial of the officers before you, as they are sentenced for crimes against innocents, a peaceful hobbit of the Shire, and one of our own young archers.” Thorin's gaze dropped back down to the officers.  
“Lieutenant Raburk?”

The Lieutenant stepped forward, bowing to the king as he placed a hand over his heart.  
“Yes, My King?”  
“You confirm that Captain Bolorin, Lieutenant Nuk, and Lieutenant Tamir were involved in the murder of one of Erebor's archers, a plot you are certain was devised in order to silence him from bringing light to their other crimes?”  
“Yes My King.”

Nuk and Tamir glared daggers at the betrayal, but Bolorin's face remained stern and unflinching as he stared straight ahead. 

“You confirm that they are also guilty of unnecessary torture of the hobbit Bilbo Baggins?”  
“Yes, My King.”  
“And you, yourself, are guilty for the assisted kidnapping and rough treatment of said hobbit?”  
“Yes, My King.”  
“Who else was present, and assisted in this kidnapping?”  
“Lieutenant's Tamir and Glormur, My King.”  
“Why did you kidnap him?”   
“The late King Thror had ordered us to bring him captives for use as slaves, My King.”

Thorin's eyes scanned the sea of dwarves crowding the room. Some looked shocked, and others angry, and he was glad this day had come and he could show his kingdom just how unlike his grandfather he was. He looked back to Raburk, dropping his voice a little.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He raised his head again to address the crowd.  
“Do any here wish to press any further questions or bring forth any other evidence before sentencing?”

There was silence, and then another officer pulled himself from the ranks in the crowd and stepped forward.

“My King,” he addressed Thorin.  
“Lieutenant Crenig,” Thorin acknowledged the dwarf.  
“Who is to say the hobbit was tortured at all? There he sits, and by just looking at him, I would say he looks whole and hale, if a bit queasy.”  
There was a buzz of murmured agreement throughout the crowd.

Thorin pinched his eyes shut and sucked in a pained breath. He had feared this would happen, but if he truly intended to prove himself to his kingdom, he did not have much choice. He turned to Bilbo, an apologetic look on his face. He moved to stand at the hobbit's feet, and firmly met his eyes.

“Bilbo,” Thorin began, his voice soft and reassuring, “you do not have to do this, and I wish I did not have to have to ask you.”  
Bilbo clenched his jaw and set his face into the one he saved for chasing hobbits from his garden when they came to spy on the “Bad Omen Baggins”. He hopped to his feet and strode down to face Lieutenant Crenig.

“Here now, you need visible proof?” Bilbo lifted his foot, giving the dwarf a good look at the scars on his sole. He set it down again and turned around, carefully lifting the bottom of the back of his shirt, just enough to give a glimpse of the angry flesh above the waist of his trousers. When he was sure the lieutenant had a good look, he turned back around and held out his hands, where scars from tightly knotted rope still circled his wrists.

“Those dwarves,” Bilbo pointed accusingly at the officers before the throne, “did this to me. Is that enough proof for you?”

Crenig narrowed his eyes at the hobbit, as though he were unsure what to make of the angry creature. He slowly nodded and took a few measured steps back.  
“My apologies, Master Hobbit,” he said stiffly. The dwarf was suddenly in a hurry to take his seat and he turned and moved quickly to do just that.

“Anyone else?” Bilbo offered casually, his eyes sweeping over the now silent crowd.  
“Alright then,” he turned and walked back up to Thorin, stopping to give him a smug grin. “They're all yours, Your Highness,” Bilbo muttered softly. Thorin attempted to hide his amusement, but couldn't help the grin and quirked eyebrow he gave Bilbo as the hobbit took his seat. He schooled his features and turned back to his audience.

“All officers will be cleared of the charge of kidnapping, in light of the fact that it was ordered by their king. 

Lieutenant Raburk, I thank you for your testimony, and for turning yourself in. You are guilty of the rough treatment of a civilian. You are to be stripped of your title and put on probation, with the possibility of reapplying at a later date, pending my approval.

Lieutenant Glormur, you are charged with withholding evidence. You are to be stripped of your title, permanently.

Lieutenants Nuk and Tamir, you are both guilty of withholding evidence, rough handling of a civilian, and assisting in the murder of a member of Erebor's army. You will be imprisoned for life.

Captain Bolorin, you are guilty of withholding evidence, torture of a civilian, and murder of a member of Erebor's army. You will be imprisoned pending another hearing, where I will decide what I am going to do with you.”   
He turned to Dwalin and his guards standing off to the side.  
“Take them away.” 

Thorin turned around and walked over to Bilbo, giving him his hand and pulling him to his feet as the crowd dispersed and began talking amongst themselves all at once.

“That was most impressive,” Thorin praised Bilbo as they waited for the room to clear.  
Bilbo shrugged. “I had to do what was necessary to be sure those horrible dwarves got what they deserved. Now they won't be hurting anyone again.”  
“No. They won't.”

“King Thorin!” a voice shouted as a desperate looking dwarrowdam approached the throne.  
“King Thorin!” Thorin frowned and turned toward the voice.   
“I must speak with you, Your Highness,” she gave a hurried bow and waited for Thorin to allow her to continue.  
“What is it you need, my lady?” Thorin asked politely.

“Please, My King, I wish to request the release of a prisoner.”  
Thorin tilted his head curiously. “What prisoner?”  
“A prisoner taken by King Thror about six months ago.”  
“What was his crime?”

The dwarrowdam fidgeted slightly, eyes shifting nervously.   
“He was my husband, Your Highness.”  
Thorin's frown deepened. “His crime was being married to you?”

The dwarrowdam sighed.   
“King Thror stopped me in the halls one night. It was late, and there weren't many others wandering around.”   
Her voice lowered and she seemed to get more nervous as she continued.   
“He took a fancy to me, said he'd like to take me for a slave, like you've done to your halfling there.”

Bilbo marched forward, crossing his arms firmly.   
“I am half of nothing, I'll have you know, nor do I belong to anyone!”  
“Begging your pardon, Master Hobbit, I meant no offense.”  
Bilbo nodded his forgiveness, his face softening at the dams earnest apology.  
“I do not condone the keeping of slaves. Master Baggins is here as my guest,” Thorin explained.  
“Oh. Oh I'm terribly sorry. I only assumed.....”  
“Quite alright. Now please, continue,” Thorin urged.

“I told the king I was married. He said he would be sure to fix that issue, and the next day, a couple of officers came and took my husband away.”   
She averted her gaze, blinking against the tears that were starting to fill her eyes.  
“I- I don't even know if he still lives, but-” She threw a hand over her mouth, attempting to muffle a sob.

Bilbo leapt forward, placing a gentle hand on the dam's shoulder.   
“I am so sorry, My Lady. I can't imagine how you must feel.”  
“He is my One! It is painful to be away from him so long!”

Thorin pinched his eyes shut, all to aware of how painful being separated from your One could be. He couldn't imagine what she was going through, and his anger with his grandfather rekindled.

“Please, trust in your king. I know he will personally figure this out, and help you any way he can. We will find your husband, and hopefully be able to fix this,” Bilbo reassured the distraught dwarrowdam.  
“Thank you Master... what was it?”  
“Baggins.”  
She gave him a watery smile. “Master Baggins. I thank Mahal that you are here.”

“Please, My Lady, give your information to my advisor Balin. He is standing right over there. We will contact you as soon as we find anything,” Thorin finally found his voice.  
The dwarrowdam bowed and went to find Balin.

“Thank you, Bilbo. You continue to surprise me.”  
Bilbo smiled up at him. “Well, where do we start in finding the lady's husband?”  
Thorin sighed. “Well, first we will speak to the guards who are in charge of the prison. See if they know anything. And if that doesn't pan out, we will check the hall of records.” 

“Shouldn't we check with the prisoners? They might have information. How many prisoners are there?”

Thorin frowned. “Honestly, I'm not sure. Might not be a bad idea to check the records of all of them. Make sure there aren't other innocent dwarves still locked up.”

Bilbo smiled warmly at him. “I think that is a very good idea.”

* * * * *

Thorin worked his way carefully down the stairs leading to Erebor's prison. He almost felt guilty for insisting that Bilbo go back to the rooms. Dis and Fili had headed off to meet with the guild masters, and Kili hadn't been seen all day. Therefore, Thorin was grateful when Ori and his older brother Dori, who had been present at the sentencing, offered to keep Bilbo company, and the three had set off together for a snack.   
Elevensies, he reminded himself. 

Thorin was glad Bilbo's appetite was coming back, after the hobbit missed three meals the day before, and barely touched his food that morning. He remember the hobbit's nervousness, and was thankful the trial was finally over. Perhaps there would be a little peace in the mountain. 

The king thought about the events of the morning, and how Bilbo had so boldly come forward to cast out any doubts there may have been about his treatment. What a contrast from the nervous hobbit who had been sitting in his bed chambers just before that. He thought of the strength Bilbo must have, to stand so strong before the entire court while he was still so frightened. The way Bilbo's voice had shaken earlier with is nerves, and how he could hardly eat. 

And the way the hobbit had trembled pleasantly under his touch before the fire. How warm and soft his skin felt beneath Thorin's rough fingers. How he could feel the sharp inhale of every pleased gasp that entered Bilbo's lungs. How pink the tips of his ears had turned under Thorin's ministrations. 

No, no, now was not the time for those thoughts, Thorin chided himself as he entered the dungeons below the kingdom. It was significantly darker down here, and the air smelled wet with a hint of mildew. The guard at the door gave him an uncertain look, but bowed just the same as Thorin approached the entrance to the prison.

“Your Majesty, what can I do for you? Come to check on the newest arrivals?” the guard asked.  
“No, actually. I came for information, which I'm hoping you or one of the other guards can give me.”  
“I will give you any information I have, Your Majesty. What is it you are seeking?”  
“I intend to find record of all the prisoners here, a full list of each and every one, and what they were charged with.”

The guard looked troubled.   
“Oh. Well, King Thror wasn't much of a record keeper. There may be accounts of the earliest prisoners of his reign, but not much has been recorded for the last couple decades or so. I would be glad to fill in where I can.”

“Thank you. And where would I find whatever records there are in existence?”   
“Honestly Your Highness, if I were you, I would start in your grandfathers rooms.”

Thorin had expected this. Where else would a king hide the proof of his misdeeds than in his own quarters, where none would dare look?  
“I will do that. Until then, would you walk me through, and tell me whatever you can of the prisoners you guard?”

The rest of his afternoon was taken up walking through the prison. Dwalin joined them, after having secured the latest additions, and Thorin requested he send for Balin, in order to take notes. Dwalin located Balin, but the old dwarf was not able to get away. So it was, when the guard returned, he brought with him Ori instead. The young dwarf tagged along behind Thorin and the two guards, following closely and taking notes, and blushing with a smile whenever Dwalin met his eye. 

They had been walking for quite some time, stopping frequently for Thorin to ask questions, and Ori to take them down with the answers when their guide turned to face Thorin.

“Are you looking for someone specific, My King?” he asked curiously.  
“Yes, actually. His name is Grinir, and his wife was not sure what his crimes were.”  
“Grinir...” the guard was thoughtful for a moment. “Ah! Yes, he was the husband of that dam who runs the fabric shop. The one with all the silks? No idea how she gets them, but they are the finest! Yes, he is further down the way here. I'll take you to him.”

Thorin was thrilled the dwarf still lived, and he hoped he could manage to gain his forgiveness and trust so he could release him. The last thing he needed was another dwarf running around the mountain, seeking retribution.

“Here he is, in here. Grinir? Hey, the king has come to see you!” the guard banged on the wooden door, peering through the grate at the top.

“The king can go sit on an orc spear,” a voice echoed from the cell.  
The guard looked apologetic.   
“News doesn't travel through here very quickly. He probably isn't aware King Thror is no longer with us,” he said in a hushed tone.   
“Uh, King Thorin here wishes to speak to you,” the guard said a bit louder, hoping the knowledge that Thror was no longer in power would make the prisoner more compliant.

“King Thorin?” There was the sound of boots on stone and suddenly a pair of eyes were peaking through the grate.  
“Where the hell is Thror? Not that I'd rather be seeing him.”  
“My grandfather is no longer with us. He has gone off to the halls of our maker,” Thorin responded.  
Grinir narrowed his eyes at the king.   
“And what brings the king of Erebor down to the dungeons searching for me? Certainly you have enough of a mess to clean up now that old bastard's dead?”

Thorin cringed inwardly, trying to remind himself this dwarf had been taken from his wife and thrown into the dungeon by his grandfather.   
“I come in the name of justice.”  
Grinir scoffed.  
“And for the sake of your wife.”  
“Aringa?” the dwarf's voice was suddenly thick with emotion, his eyes shining between the grates.   
“Yes. She came to me personally, requesting I look in to your arrest. She insists you are innocent, and wishes me to set you free.”

There was silence from the other side of the door, and Thorin exchanged glances with Dwalin as they heard a bit of shuffling.  
“And... you would do that?” the prisoner sounded a bit skeptical, and Thorin couldn't blame him.  
“Yes. If you wish.”  
“I- That would make me very happy, My King,” Grinir finally replied. 

“Is there any reason I should not? As you said, I already have quite a mess to clean up. What did my grandfather claim was your crime?”  
Grinir gave a mirthless laugh.  
“Nothing. He made no claim, accused me of nothing. He wouldn't tell me why I was imprisoned. I still have no idea. But I swear to you, if you will set me free, I will not be a threat. I have no interest in seeking vengeance. I only wish to return to my wife.”

Thorin nodded, considering the risk.   
“Do I have your word, Grinir? I am not my grandfather, and I will not be held responsible for his misdeeds.”  
“You have my word, My King. I swear on pain of death you will not ever regret setting me free.”

Thorin looked to Dwalin, who shrugged uneasily. The guard captain had always been a bit paranoid, and so Thorin did not take his caution too seriously.  
“Alright. I am not cruel, and I do not support the mistreatment of my subjects. Wrongful imprisonment certainly fits that description. I will release you, and reunite you with your wife.”

Thorin nodded to the prison guard and stepped back a bit, Dwalin taking up a protective stance, his hand ready on his ax as a precaution. The prison guard pulled his keys from the iron ring on his belt and slid it into the lock. With a click of the locking mechanism and the grinding of rusty iron hinges, the door slowly slid open. 

The dwarf who stood before them looked as though he had suffered for years rather than months. He was obviously malnourished, and his eyes had the empty haunted look Thorin always associated with prisoners of war. 

“Grinir, as your king, I officially pardon you from whatever crimes my grandfather thought you guilty of. I will escort you to the healer to have you cleared, then I will take you home myself, to be sure you make it safely.”

“Truly, Your Highness? You would see a mere blacksmith home personally, as though I were of some nobility, or of any importance at all?”  
“Every one of my subjects is important, and it is my duty as your king to see you well.”

Grinir gave Thorin a grateful smile, and Dwalin came forth to help the dwarf amble out of the prison. 

* * * * *

Oin was just getting ready to head home when Thorin, Dwalin, Ori, and Grinir came into the infirmary. 

“Well well, what have we here? What can I do for you, My King?” the old healer asked.   
“If you would please, Master Oin, this dwarf needs to be looked over,” Thorin answered.  
“Alright then, come over here. Let me have a look at ya,” the healer grumbled to the other dwarf, pulling him over to examine him.

Thorin turned to Ori as the young red head pulled some loose parchment from his bag.  
“Ori? Would you mind writing out a copy of your notes, and see to it that Balin gets them?”  
“Oh yes. Of course, Your Majesty.”  
“Thank you Ori. I see the possibility of a bright future for you. You came through for your king, and such willingness to set aside your time for the good of the kingdom does not go unnoticed.”  
Ori smiled and his face took on a bright red hue at the praise.   
“I'm only glad I could help, Your Highness. I'd be happy to do it any time.”

Thorin smiled and Ori ran off to find Balin as Oin approached the king.

“Well, he's obviously malnourished, but otherwise his wounds all seem to be psychological. He should be fine, with time.” 

“That is certainly good news. Well, Grinir, are you ready to go back to your wife?”  
“Yes, My King, and as a show of my gratitude, I would like to share some information with you.”  
Thorin furrowed his brow curiously at the dwarf.   
“How would you have information I seek?”  
“I overheard them taking Lieutenant Tamir through here. I assume he has been arrested?”  
“Yes.”  
“And, given you are obviously of sound mind, and not your grandfather, I believe it is safe to assume you are in fact attempting to bring this kingdom back to its former glory. You do in fact seek to right your grandfathers wrongs?”  
Thorin sighed. “Yes.”  
“I am sure I have been privy to information regarding Erebor's armies that you might find useful.”  
“And how is that?”  
“Tamir is my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hitting kudos, and for your sweet comments. More soon!   
> Much love!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much happening!  
> Enjoy!

It was early morning, when Bilbo awoke. He was surprised to find that he was alone in the bed. It had been a while since he last slept alone, and the realization Thorin had opted not to join him in sleep sat like a rock in Bilbo's stomach. He tried to shake the feeling, reasoning with himself that he was taking the king's actions quite personally. He readied his clothes and went off to start his bath.

The sound of the bath water woke Thorin from his slumber. He had not slept well, and had not expected to, now that he had grown accustomed to sharing a bed with the hobbit. Thorin had gotten back to his chambers late the previous night, having spent quite a length of time with Grinir in the infirmary, and then taking him home to his wife. When he had returned, Bilbo had already been asleep, and it did not feel right, climbing in to bed with him without being invited. And so, he had taken his place on the lounge, begrudgingly settling in to face the night alone. 

Thorin stretched with a groan and quickly got up to dress, eager to get to his meeting with Grinir to obtain the promised information. He was just pulling on his tunic when there was the soft padding of feet across the floor. He turned around, finding Bilbo still wrapped in a towel making his way slowly over to him with the jar of healing salve. 

“Would..... would you.....” Bilbo's voice trailed off, as though he were afraid to ask.  
Thorin smiled warmly, and the hobbit seemed to relax.  
“Of course,” Thorin said gently. 

Bilbo turned and made his way to the fireside, taking up his usual seat, and tucked his legs under him and turned around. He let the towel drop around his back as Thorin got on his knees behind him. Bilbo stared at the patterns in the fabric of the back of his chair, waiting with anticipation as Thorin took up the jar. There was the grating sound of the metal lid grinding on the glass jar, and Bilbo braced himself to prepare for the soothing touch of the king. He was still for a few moments, then there was the cool smoothness of the salve, and Bilbo couldn't help but shiver at the feeling. 

Bilbo had to hand it to him, for a large dwarf with such large hands, Thorin was incredibly gentle. His hands were careful and precise as he moved them over Bilbo's skin, and the hobbit struggled greatly to ignore the affect it was having on him.

Far too soon, the job was finished. Bilbo knew his wounds were covered. He knew Thorin could stop, close up the jar and walk away. But he didn't. He set the tips of his fingers lightly at the base of Bilbo's spine and drug them slowly up, as though testing the reaction he could garner. Bilbo was not entirely prepared, and he let out an involuntary gasp of pleasure at the caress, his back arching as the fingers traveled up and along his shoulder blades. He squirmed pleasantly as a barely there brush of fingertips slowly gliding outward and ran delicately over each of his ribs. He sat in anticipation, waiting for the touching to resume, but he was left wanting. There was the sound of the lid being replaced on the jar, and Thorin moved to set it at the bedside. 

Bilbo pulled the towel around and over his chest as the dwarf turned toward him, the look on his face unreadable. Bilbo should say something. He should tell Thorin everything he'd been feeling. How he'd fallen for the dwarf, and how he now knew without a doubt they were meant to be together. He should show him his mark. He should beg and plead for the sweet touches to continue, but his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth, his heart pounding in his chest so hard it was a wonder Thorin couldn't hear it, and he could not bring forth the words trapped in his throat.

“I have a meeting this morning, and I'm not sure I'll be back for lunch. But I will see you this evening,” Thorin said quickly. He turned and walked out of the room, leaving an overheated hobbit half naked before the hearth.

* * * * *

Mahal wept. He could not keep this up for long. Thorin shook himself as he walked through the sitting room, trying desperately not to think about the hobbit he had just been touching. How he had wanted to lean close, continue teasing Bilbo's skin with his hands and taste the delicate point of his ear. He had almost done just that when Bilbo began to tremble so beautifully to his touch. Oh, it had been close. He could not let himself get carried away with Bilbo, not until the hobbit was ready. 

Sure, Thorin could admit, Bilbo was getting better. He was stronger, and his nightmares seemed to be occurring less and less. But Thorin was convinced, Bilbo was not ready to face the reality of their growing relationship, or be told of the spark. It was just too soon!

Thorin pulled out his vial and downed the last of his tonic.  
“Have you informed Oin you will be needing a refill? Or have you finally decided to tell Bilbo?” Dis's voice was even more stern than usual, and Thorin was simply not in the mood to deal with his sister.

“I spoke with Oin last night. He is working on the tonic, and will be bringing it to me this afternoon.”  
Thorin's tone made it clear he was not open to having this discussion again, but since when did Dis ever heed his warnings?

“Why won't you speak with him? Tell him what's happened? Bilbo has feelings for you, and it's not likely he will turn you down. What are you afraid of?”

Thorin stopped abruptly, giving his sister a warning glance.  
“I am not afraid!” His angry voice echoed through the vast hall, and his guards shifted uncomfortably behind them.

Dis would not be cowed.  
“Oh really? Then enlighten me, why have you not told Bilbo?”

“It is for his own well being. I will not overwhelm him with my emotions before he is ready to face them.”  
“And how do you know he is not ready?”  
Thorin didn't have a response to that, and instead of answering, he scowled angrily and stormed off. 

* * * * *

Thorin was still fuming when he entered the council chambers that were beginning to feel like his second home as often as he'd been there lately. Balin was already poised and ready to go, Grinir seated at the table across from him.

“Good morning, My King,” Grinir rose and gave a bow as Thorin entered.  
“Good morning,” Thorin responded lightly, attempting to reign in his previous aggravation.  
Grinir looked a fair sight better than he had the previous night. A good night's sleep and a hot meal seemed to have done him well.  
“Please, sit,” Thorin said as he took his own seat next to Balin. He sat forward slightly, resting his clasped hands on the table before him and addressed Grinir eagerly.  
“Now tell me, what is it you wanted to share with me today?”

“As I told you yesterday, Lieutenant Tamir is my brother, and as such, I was able to... accidentally listen in on some of his meetings with a few other lieutenants. I can tell you who is safe, who is not, and who among them are traitors.”  
“That,” Balin began, “would be highly useful information.” 

“I thought it might.”  
“When you're ready, Grinir, please share with us all that you can.”  
Thorin let the dwarf take a moment to gather his thoughts as Balin readied a quill to jot down a few notes.  
Grinir cleared his throat and licked his lips, then regarded his king respectfully.  
“To start with, Your Highness, you have done well removing Glormur and Nuk from Captain Gilda's ranks. Does she intend to remove Boru as well?”

Thorin frowned. “I cannot be certain, but she made it known she had wished to replace her lieutenants as soon as possible.”  
“Watch out for that one, Your Highness. Boru, Burg, and Crenig are probably the most dangerous of the lieutenants there are left. I sat in on many a meeting where they discussed the potential..... forcible removal of a few of the armies other officers.”

“Forcible removal?” Thorin was careful to keep his tone level, but he couldn't keep the concern from showing in his eyes.  
“Yes, My King. They were plotting all the best ways to make them disappear,” Grinir said in a low conspiratorial voice. 

Thorin glanced briefly at his Guard Captain, the worry now plain on his face.  
“Do you know who their targets were?” Balin asked eagerly.

“I know a few that were mentioned. They wanted to remove Gilda, but they knew they would have to bide their time a bit for that. Removal of a captain seemed a bit ambitious for them to start with. So they decided they would start with Lieutenant Bifur, and go from there to Lieutenant Gloin, and Asgur. Then they wanted to take out Captain Gilda. Their last target was Captain Dwalin.”

Thorin closed his eyes and took in a deep breath blowing it out in an angry gust. It seemed the kingdom could not find a moments peace.  
“Do you know what their plans were?” he asked, rubbing at his forehead.  
“They never seemed to settle on a single idea. More just... mulled over possibilities. Poison, stage an accident, those kinds of things.”  
Thorin nodded. “Did any of them mention my Grandfather having been aware of these plans?”  
“They never said, but they did mention he would probably not mind.”  
“Is there any other information you can give us?”  
Grinir shrugged. “Not that I can think of, Your Highness. My mind is still a bit fuzzy. But if I happen to remember anything, I'll be certain to find you.”  
“Thank you, Lord Grinir.”  
“Lord?”  
“As my personal thanks, you will be given larger living quarters and status in my court.”  
“Thank you, Your Highness. I cannot tell you what that means to my wife and I. We intend to start a family, and this is just the leg up we need to give a child a good life.”

Thorin nodded graciously as Grinir gave a low bow and left the room, nearly giddy with the anticipation of telling his wife the good news.

“Well, my dear friends, I think it's time we searched my grandfather's rooms.”

* * * * *

Bilbo and Ori sat in comfortable silence. They had spent the morning in the library, researching the history of the dwarves and their founding fathers. Now, Bilbo was fully immersed in a book on the history of Erebor and her laws, and how they had changed with the exchange of power from one generation to the next. 

Ori was scanning a rather detailed description of the creation of the army branches during the second age, when he noticed that Bilbo had begun to fidget, staring blankly at the table just off to the side of the open book in front of him. 

“Bilbo, are you alright?” Ori's voice made the hobbit jump, and he shook his head before turning his focus on the dwarf across the table.  
“I'm fine Ori I'm just.... distracted.”  
“What's on your mind?”

Bilbo hesitated, trying to find the best way to bring this up. He figured Ori was his safest bet, he couldn't very well bring these things up with Dis or the boys.  
“I noticed Thorin... Thorin has black markings on his skin. Similar to the ones on Dwalin's head?”  
“Oh, tattoos?”  
Bilbo nodded hesitantly before he continued.  
“Is that common for dwarves? To have tattoos, I mean?”  
“Oh yes! Most dwarves have at least some.”

Bilbo nodded again, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly.  
“And the... the- the one over his heart? It- it was a particular design... involving a sword in front of what I believe is his seal. With a crown over it.”  
Ori nodded enthusiastically. 

“Ah, yes. That is a very important tattoo for a royal,” Ori began, eagerly throwing himself into the telling of dwarven culture. “The sword represents his mastery of the weapon, and of course behind it is the depiction of his seal, and the crown above it all symbolizes his royal lineage. Every royal has the tattoo, specified to their own seal and weaponry.” 

Bilbo nodded again, chewing nervously on his lip.

Ori met his eye, frowning with concern. “Are you alright? You look a bit flushed.”  
Bilbo shook his head again. “Yes. Yes I'm fine. It's just-”

Bilbo began unbuttoning his jacket, much to Ori's befuddlement. He flung the item on the chair next to him, and started working on his waistcoat. 

Ori looked even more concerned as the hobbit continued. He glanced around nervously, checking to be sure nobody was watching. “What.... what are you doing?”

Bilbo didn't answer, and instead began unbuttoning his shirt, stopping half way and pulling the article to the side. 

Ori's flummoxed face turned to one of complete understanding as he saw Thorin's royal tattoo clear as day over Bilbo's heart.  
“Oh. Well, that isn't surprising.”  
Bilbo's eyes widened. “It- It's not? How is this not surprising?!  
Ori dropped his gaze and sighed. “Dwalin swore me to secrecy, but at this point, I believe it would do more harm than good to keep it from you. Thorin felt the spark. With you. The night you first met.”

Bilbo's jaw dropped and he blinked rapidly, taken aback at this new information.  
“He- What?! Why didn't- why wouldn't- how could he..... What?!?!”

“He didn't want to upset you. He was very concerned that it would be too much if he told you.” Ori shook his head. “Stubborn, if you ask me, suffering needlessly.”

Bilbo's eyes narrowed as he shot a concerned look at the young dwarf. “Suffering?”  
“Yes. It is painful for a dwarf to be away from their soul mate once the spark is experienced, until courtship officially begins. And even after a bond is completed, if the two are separated for too long. Each couple experiences a different level of pain or discomfort, depending on their relationship and the strength of their bond.”

Bilbo's brow furrowed, his distaste obvious in his features. “Painful? How..... Oh. That's what Dis meant. The other day, she mentioned Thorin was experiencing headaches. And the dwarrowdam yesterday, she wasn't speaking of emotional pain at being separated from her One.”

Ori nodded and glanced up at the ceiling in thought as he ticked off on his fingers, “Headaches, dizziness, anxiety, mood swings, chest pain, inability to concentrate..... The list goes on.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples in aggravation.  
“He has been suffering through all of that this entire time?”  
Ori shrugged.  
“Well, I suppose so. Or something like it anyway.”  
Bilbo's face fell.  
“So why hasn't Thorin made me a bead? That is the first step in initiating a bond, is it not?” His voice was sharp, and he flinched inwardly at the tone he was taking with his friend. It wasn't like this was Ori's fault.

“He doesn't want to overwhelm or scare you.”  
“Overwhelm or scare me? Does he not-”  
No. It was apparent he did not.  
“Not?” Ori pressed for him to continue.  
“Have any idea what he has come to mean to me? The affect he has on me?”  
“Dwalin said the king has a bad habit of putting his own needs and feelings aside for others, particularly those he cares about.”

Bilbo sat thoughtfully for a moment, regarding the edge of the table.  
“And what if I made him a bead?”  
Ori's face lit up in an elated smile. “That is a fantastic idea!”

“But,” Bilbo furrowed his brow uncertainly, “but what if he turns me down? A dwarf can refuse a bond, can't he?”

Ori shrugged. “Then, with the formal decline of an offer, the bond is broken and its affects cease. But I do not think he will turn you down, Bilbo. Dwalin is close to Thorin, and he often speaks of how smitten the king is with you.”

Bilbo's lips quirked into a grin, and he leveled Ori with a happily determined look.  
“What must I do?”

“The first thing you need to do is create a bead, or find one you believe worthy of your intended. Then, you will need to be taught how to braid. There is a specific braid used for a one of intent, which you will weave your bead into.”  
Bilbo nodded seriously, taking in every word. 

“Once your bead is created, you must have a comb made, or again, find one worthy, and then you must formally request to braid your bead into his hair, using the comb.”

“And... and how is that done? Is there some official words or phrases I should use?”

“You take a knee and present your comb and bead and verbally request to braid his hair. If he agrees, you braid your bead in, and then of course....” Ori's cheeks pinkened. 

“What?” 

“Well, you'll have to kiss him. It is the act that will trigger the beginning of a bond.”

Bilbo looked down at the open book on the table, consumed with the image Ori's words had conjured. Certain imaginings of wandering hands and tender kisses and how Thorin must taste.....  
Bilbo frowned again, taking in something that should have been obvious, but had eluded his awareness until just now. He lifted his gaze, giving Ori an astounded look.  
“Wait, I thought a bond was just an agreement. What do you mean, triggers the bond? Is this like a.... a biological thing? Then I suppose it is, if it is affecting Thorin to not have our bond acted upon. But how does that work?”

Ori grinned. “It is unique to only dwarves. There are no other peoples in Middle Earth who experience it. It is a binding of souls. Once it is complete, we are able to feel our mate, their emotions, their pain. A dwarf cannot live without their bonded mate, once the bond is made, and they are inseparable forever.”

Bilbo suddenly felt uneasy. He shifted uneasily, concern marring his features as he fidgeted and blinked rapidly a few times.  
“So- so if my life were to suddenly end.....”  
“He'll die.” Ori said softly, his face earnest.

“I- I could not do that to him. I couldn't. I- Ori?”  
Bilbo looked to the dwarf pleadingly.

“Bilbo, if you do not choose to bond with Thorin, he will never love another. You are soul mates. Would you really have the two of you live in misery, instead of spending any amount of time happy together?”

Bilbo fell silent, his gaze dropping to his lap as he contemplated the young dwarf's words.  
“You are very wise, Ori.”  
Ori nodded. “Yes. I am the smart one. Everyone knows it. Even Nori, but don't mention it to him.”  
Bilbo looked up and grinned. “Alright, smart one. Teach me to braid.”

Ori looked suddenly uncomfortable.  
“I couldn't. Braiding is a very intimate thing for a dwarf, and it would be highly inappropriate for me to teach you.”  
He looked down thoughtfully for a moment.  
“You are close to the royal family, yes?” He asked Bilbo, eyes never leaving the table

Bilbo nodded.  
Ori looked up and smiled. “Let's go speak with them. As the family of your intended, it is best to get their blessing anyway. Not that you would even have to ask.”

* * * * *

When they reached the royal chambers, Bilbo was happy to discover Dis was there alone, as he was not in the mood for the princes typical ribbing. He was far too nervous to take such banter at present.

“Dis, I wish to speak with you,” Bilbo said formally as he approached the dwarrowdam seated on the couch.  
“What can I do for you Bilbo? Ori.”  
“I......” Bilbo floundered for a moment, trying to put his thoughts into words as he worried the hem of his waistcoat.  
Ori nudged his elbow, and the hobbit took a measured breath.  
“I wish to court Thorin. I have recently discovered he is my soul mate, and I have grown very fond of him. I understand he is king, and he deserves to be courted in the traditional way of his people. In which case, I have need for a bead, and a comb, both worthy of him, and I will need to be instructed in how to braid. As the closest of his kin, I ask for your blessing.” Bilbo bowed his head lightly as he finished, then glanced up again with pleading eyes. “Dis, can you help me?”

Bilbo had never seen Dis smile so widely, it lit up her face beautifully, her eyes like sparkling emeralds filled with mirth.  
“It's about time. I have been harping on Thorin to initiate courtship for weeks. You have my blessing, Bilbo, and I would be honored to help you.”

They spent the next few hours discussing possible beads, and the option of Bilbo to crafting his own to present to Thorin. They were soon joined by Fili and Kili, who were all too eager to join in their plotting. It was eventually decided that Bilbo would take braiding lessens with the family, and Dis would spend the next morning helping Bilbo decide on a plan. They settled on using Kili for Bilbo to practice on, as he would soon be considered his nephew, and since the prince was the youngest, it would be the least scandalous choice.

Long after Ori had left, and Dis and Fili had gone to bed, Bilbo and Kili still sat chatting excitedly before the slowly dying fire. The thrill of it all was intoxicating, and Bilbo was dying to get started. 

* * * * *

Thorin was exhausted. His feet seemed to drag as he headed back to his rooms. It was late, and he, Dwalin, and Balin had worked into the night, digging through drawers and chests, sifting through all manner of paperwork in his grandfather's old rooms. 

The late king's state of mind had been worse than Thorin had known. Each document from one year to the next took on more and more of a sense of aggression and paranoia, and finally complete delusion. The easiest documents to find were fully written accounts of meetings with General Golorin and Captain Bolorin, and then several from meetings with other captains and lieutenants. There were questionable trade proposals, and outlines of laws Thror had considered passing, each a bit more unreasonable than the last. 

The most recent notes were no more than jotted scribbles, highlighting the madness that had taken root and the late kings inability to follow a linear thought. There were nearly illegible notes of “destroy the elves” and “enslave the men of Dale” written hastily on parchment corners. “Have Thranduil Poisoned” and “Thror the Deathless” on others. 

By the end of the night, the three dwarves were more than ready to call it quits. After finding a sheet of parchment with the words “Thorin will steal my crown” written hundreds of times over and again, with the statement “must end Thorin” at the bottom, the king's stomach was tied in knots and he was ready to try to go to sleep, hoping when he awoke the next morning, all of this would be a bad dream. The day had been hard on him, and the bond was apparently developing new side effects. He was beginning to feel a bit cloudy, and the headache was causing a strange thrumming in his head.

Thorin pinched his eyes shut against the onslaught of hurt, both emotional and physical, currently plaguing him as he walked to his rooms. He opened the door to the royal chambers and was surprised to find Bilbo was still awake, sitting on the rug with Kili. The pair went oddly silent when he had entered the room, but he was in no state to think much on it. 

“Thorin? Are you alright?” Bilbo asked, his face creased with concern.  
“Yes, I'm alright. I'm just... quite tired,” he said softly as he continued through to his bed chambers. 

Bilbo frowned as the door closed. “Kili, I would love to stay out here and discuss this with you further but-”  
Kili grinned like the imp he was. “Go. See to it that he's alright. And nobody would blame you if you initiated a bond with him in a way that isn't quite proper,” Kili called after him. “It's a wonder you're both still standing after this long!”

Bilbo quirked an amused grin at the prince as he closed the door behind him. He moved to the kings side on the lounge, intending to strike up a conversation, but the dwarf was already asleep. Bilbo frowned to himself as he noticed the lines on Thorin's face had deepened, even in sleep, and he had developed dark circles beneath his eyes. He would let Thorin sleep, and tomorrow, he would put together all the details to officially propose courtship to the king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you thank you thank you! Love to you all!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm thinking this is going to end up being around 30 chapters, but don't quote me on that. I promise things will eventually come together, please be patient with me. Slow burn is as slow burn does! hehehe
> 
> Enjoy!

Thorin sat on the edge of the lounge, waiting impatiently for Bilbo to finish his bath. His leg bounced anxiously as his eyes kept shooting back to the door, eager for the hobbit to come out. 

Thorin was never this antsy, it was not proper for a king to fidget, but there was no room in his head to worry about that now. His mind was plagued with the most disturbing thoughts. Thoughts of a scheming grandfather, who most likely had developed solid plans for Thorin's murder before his death. Or plans against Bifur. Gloin and Asgur. Gilda.  
Dwalin.  
He had to be sure such schemes had been dropped with the death of the king. He rose determinedly from the lounge. There were lives at stake, and Thorin could not waste another moment sitting idly by, hoping nothing bad would happen. He made to leave the room, but stopped before he had opened the door. He couldn't just leave. Bilbo was expecting him to help with his salve. Not to mention, they had always taken breakfast together. The least he could do is let the hobbit know he had to go, and find someone to help Bilbo see to his wounds. 

Thorin frowned to himself. He was certain Dis would help Bilbo. Surely he would be comfortable enough with that. Or, considering the scene he had walked into the night before, he could ask Kili to help the hobbit. 

The bite of jealousy struck Thorin by surprise as he thought about the previous night. How Bilbo and Kili had abruptly stopped talking when he entered the room. And how close the two were sitting, as though they had been speaking in hushed whispers.

Was there something else going on here?

Thorin shook the thoughts from his head. No, no there was no possible way Kili would do that to him. His nephews were both aware of his feelings for the hobbit, and the intense pull of his ever waiting bond. 

Thorin felt guilty at having even considered Kili would be making advances on his One. And Bilbo... well, he was sure the hobbit enjoyed his company. At least, he seemed to like having Thorin near.  
He shook his head again. Perhaps he should do a little research on hobbits. His lack of knowledge about Bilbo's people was quite troubling.

He would speak with Dis and ask her to assist Bilbo this morning, but only after letting Bilbo know and making sure the hobbit would be comfortable with the arrangement. He walked over to the bathroom and knocked lightly on the door.

“Bilbo? I have a pressing situation I must see to. Will you be alright if I ask Dis to assist you with your salve this morning?”  
“Oh,” Bilbo's voice was slightly muffled through the door, “yes, yes I understand. I'm sure I'll be alright with Dis. You go ahead.” The disappointment was clear in his tone, and Thorin felt another pang of guilt for leaving him so abruptly. “Will I see you for lunch?”  
Thorin frowned. “I- I'm not sure. I will do my best.” He hesitated for a moment, then took a hasty retreat out into the sitting room, where Dis sat enjoying a cup of morning tea before the fire. 

“In a hurry, Thorin?” Dis had a knowing look about her, and Thorin didn't have the time to investigate.  
“Yes. Will you please assist Bilbo with his wounds this morning? I must go with Balin and Dwalin and continue our search of grandfather's rooms.”

Dis nodded slowly, giving him an assessing look.  
“And, would this search be in the interest of righting past wrongs, or in a desperate attempt to find more reasons to hate him?”  
Thorin rubbed at his forehead in agitation.  
“Does it really matter?”  
“Yes. It does.”

Thorin sighed in exasperation.  
“I must find out if he was involved with plans against some of our officers, and if there are any records of the prisoners currently being held. It has been brought to my attention that Dwalin, as well as several of our other officers may be in danger, and there is a chance there are innocents being held in our prison.”

Dis frowned. “Oh. Well, then by all means, go. I will tend to Bilbo.”

Thorin sighed gratefully. “Thank you, namad.”

Dis rose and came to him, resting their foreheads together.  
“I am sorry this burden has fallen on you, Thorin. Let me know if there is any way I can help to lessen its weight. I will keep Bilbo company, and help in any other way I can.”

Thorin pinched his eyes shut against the tears that pricked at them. He was overwhelmed with gratitude at having a loving sister like Dis to help him. He would truly be lost without her, especially with the recent findings of his grandfather's plans for him.

“I know,” Dis's cocksure grin as she pulled away made Thorin realize he had voiced his thoughts without meaning to. He rolled his eyes and huffed as Dis laid a kiss to his cheek.  
“Go. Save the armies and the mountain and the whole kingdom. Not that you didn't have enough to do already. I will tend to your hobbit,” she gestured for him to leave as she made for his rooms, and gave him a fond smile as he walked out the door.

* * * * *

Dis smiled to herself as she waited for Bilbo to come out of the bathroom. She was glad the hobbit was willing to do what Thorin would not, it was hard for her to watch her brother struggle as much as he had been. There was no doubt in her mind that Bilbo would be good for him, and for the kingdom. He may be small in stature, but the hobbit did not shy away from a challenge. 

The bathroom door opened and Bilbo came out, looking a bit uncertain in his trousers with a towel wrapped around his bare chest. Dis crossed her arms and gave him an amused grin.  
“Self conscious, are we?”  
Bilbo nodded minutely, shuffling his feet a little.  
“Bilbo, I already know of your mark. You have no reason to hide it anymore.”  
His eyes widened as he gave her a startled look. “How- how did...”  
“Kili. And Ori. And Dwalin.”  
Bilbo's eyes widened further and he blinked rapidly in shock.  
“Dwalin knows of it?”

Dis chuckled. “Of course! He and Ori are inseparable. What are you so afraid of? We are not hobbits, Bilbo, and as such, we do not think of your mark as something to be ashamed of. It is to be revered. It is a symbol of our king. My brother. We have the utmost respect for you, my dear hobbit, and for your mark.”

Bilbo blushed at the kind words and turned away, unable to meet Dis's too-knowing gaze. He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, then, with a resolute nod of his head, he dropped his towel. 

“There now, was that so hard?” Dis's smile was blinding, and Bilbo couldn't help but return the expression.  
“No. I suppose not.”  
“Come. Let me tend your wounds.”  
Bilbo straightened his spine, letting out a grateful sigh and came to sit in his chair with his back to Dis. She picked up the jar from the table and began smoothing the salve over his back.  
“Have you thought any more about what kind of bead you'd like to give Thorin?”  
Bilbo sighed.  
“I must admit, I am at a loss. I would like to fashion him one, but I have no experience with metal, or glass, or anything worthy of a king. I could not make him one of quality. Unless of course it were made of wood, but that would be completely ridiculous.”  
“How so?”

Bilbo shot her an incredulous look over his shoulder.  
“He is a king. It should be made of- of- of gold or silver or some precious metal. He is worth far more than a hunk of wood!”

Dis shook her head.  
“That is far from the truth. Thorin hates gold, for the affect it had on our grandfather. It drove him mad with greed and ultimately caused his death. A bead made of wood, however, could prove to be the perfect choice. You are not a child of mountain and stone, you are a child of rolling green fields and things that grow. To take a piece of that, and gift it to Thorin as a betrothal bead would be most appropriate in this case. Can you carve?”

Bilbo stood as Dis finished covering his back and he went to fetch a shirt.  
“As a matter of fact,” he turned to face her as he answered, “I can.”  
“We will find the finest wood available. Tell me Bilbo, would you like to accompany me to the marketplace?”

* * * * *

Thorin sat on the floor next to the dresser, rifling through another stack of notes from under his grandfather's wardrobe. There was loose parchment everywhere, under furniture, behind chair cushions, shoved in the back of drawers..... Thorin groaned as he flipped over another sheet covered in half discernible scribbles of paranoia. It would take days to go through all of it. His grandfather had truly been mad. Completely and altogether possessed by gold sickness. 

Thorin rubbed at his pounding head as he tried to make out the words on the parchment. Only a few stood out, and he would rather not dwell on them. He pinched his eyes shut and let the offending sheet fall to his lap, burying his face in his hands and trying to ignore the foreboding thoughts rolling around in his mind. 

What were Bilbo and Kili talking about last night? Why were they up so late, and huddled so close together, smiling and whispering softly? Thorin squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake the unsettling thoughts. He was beginning to feel foggy, as though his head were under water. There was a steady burn trickling up his spine, and a ringing in his ears.

His grandfather had been potentially plotting his death. Were there others conspiring with him? Is that why there had been attempts on his life? And if they went after Bilbo..... 

Thorin could not even bear the thought. Perhaps he should lock Bilbo in his bed chambers, for his own safety of course. It would be crazy for him to do it just to keep Bilbo to himself. No, it would be for the hobbit's own good. Erebor wasn't safe. He needed to keep Bilbo safe, whatever the cost. And locking him up would be the surest way to do it.....

Wait, no. No! What was happening! Thorin dropped his hands and shook his head, forcing the thoughts from his mind as he took up the stack and went back to his task. Locking Bilbo up? What had he been thinking? 

Thorin's stomach dropped as he felt a cold sense of dread shiver up his spine. 

The gold. That must be it, and this room was full of it. He scrambled to his feet, the stack of parchment still in hand, and leaned heavily against the dresser.  
“Balin! Dwalin!” The two came running from their search through Thror's desk at the panic in Thorin's voice.  
“What is it, Thorin?” Balin asked, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him slightly.

Thorin wasn't aware he had closed his eyes, but now he snapped them open and struggled to focus on Balin's face.  
“Balin,” he pleaded, “Balin- the gold!”  
“Help me get him out of here!” Balin yelled at Dwalin, and the two dragged the king from the room.

Everything was dark, and all he could hear was something calling for him. Something that sang to him like a siren song, seductive and insistent. He was hot, burning hot, as though dragon fire coursed through his veins. There was no up or down, no sense to where he was, just the ever burning desire to conquer, to possess.....

“Thorin? Thorin?”  
Balin's face swam into view, and Thorin furrowed his brow as he fought for coherency. His vision was slightly clouded, and Balin's voice sounded muffled to his ears. 

“There ya are, laddie. That's good, look at me....”

Thorin's vision cleared and he could finally see his old friend leaning over him.  
“What happened?” Thorin's mouth was dry, and he felt as though the entire mining guild were burrowing into his head. He cringed as he sat up and looked around. They were in the council chambers, just down the hall from his grandfather's old room.

“Gold sickness, lad,” Balin's voice was low and soft, attempting to soften the blow. 

“Move aside, move aside!” Oin's voice carried from Balin's left as the healer shoved the advisor out of the way. “Look at you! You pulled out of it. Pretty impressive lad. Here,” Oin said as he thrust a glass of water at Thorin's face. “Drink up. I've got your tonic here too. It's not common for a dwarf to come out of a stupor like that without being consumed.”

Thorin frowned. “Then I shall avoid gold at all costs,” he said as he staggered to his feet. 

* * * * *

Thorin insisted they continue their search for information. However, to do so in Thror's old bedroom was obviously out of the question. Instead, Dwalin enlisted the help of Ori in gathering all the notes and documents from Thror's room they could find, while Thorin and Balin sifted through the piles in the safety of the council chamber.

Thorin thumbed through his stack, hardly paying attention as he mulled over the horrendous events of the morning. He had almost fallen to the same madness his grandfather had. 

Thankfully, Thorin had no love of gold, much as he could now hear it sing to him. He swore to himself in that moment he would never fall to it again. He turned over the page in his hands and stared down at the next, this one with legible script and written with some care. He frowned as he examined the parchment, looking over what appeared to be a list. 

“Balin?” Thorin called out from his spot at the table.  
“What is it, laddie? Have ya found something?” Balin came around the to take a look.  
“It's a list of some sort,” Thorin said, handing it over to the white haired dwarf.

“If I were to guess, this is a list of Thror's slaves and what became of them,” Balin commented as his eyes swept over the page. “Look, here it has their description, and next to them each, it either says 'deceased' or 'passed on'. They're even dated.”

Thorin frowned.  
“Why would he label it differently on certain ones?”

Balin shook his head.  
“I do not think 'passed on' is to mean the same thing, in this instance.”  
The old dwarf puzzled for a moment, then decided he must be correct.  
“There are only a few with that notation, and I'll bet that is meant to indicate he 'passed them on'. As in handed them off. To someone else. Remember what Bolorin said about Thror 'casting off' old slaves? He didn't keep them more than a year.”  
“How many have that note beside them?”  
“Three. The last one is dated nearly nine months ago.”  
“You don't suppose that one could still be alive?” Thorin asked hesitantly.

Balin shrugged. “Who could know? I suppose it would depend on who she was passed on to.”

* * * * *

Thorin took his lunch as he worked, completely wrapped up in his task. Lieutenant Bifur was scheduled to come in and talk with he and Dwalin after lunch, and Thorin was determined to get through the stack of paperwork in front of him first. He smeared a bit of juice that had dripped from his apple off the page he was looking at, and sighed. 

“Come now Thorin, we can continue after meeting with Lieutenant Bifur. Give it a rest, lad,” Balin's voice was calm and placating, the tone he had always used when Thorin was getting carried away in his youth. 

The king begrudgingly pushed the stack aside and reached for the bread on his plate. He shoved the entire piece into his mouth and licked the honey from his fingers. Balin frowned at his bad manners, but chose not to voice his disapproval.

There was a knock on the door, and Dwalin went to answer it. When the door opened, it was to reveal a most peculiar dwarf. The dwarf was of average size and build, his hair wild, black and silver in color. The affect was attractive in the braids of his beard, but the ax embedded in his forehead threw off the affect a bit. 

As a hammer lieutenant, duty had often put Bifur in harms way, and though he had been struck with an enemies blade, it would appear luck was on his side. The wound had bled, but only a little, and Bifur's cousin Bofur would be quick to tell you that it was Bifur's thick skull that saved him. Not that Bifur was unintelligent. Most assumed so, as his injury had cost him his ability to speak Westron, and his Khuzdul was quite broken at times. But Bifur was a clever sort, resourceful and shrewdly observant. He and Dwalin had been good friends since before they were old enough to join the army at all, and he was eager to assist his king in weeding out the scum the ranks.

“Lieutenant Bifur, thank you for joining us,” Balin said, ever the proper advisor.  
Bifur gestured eagerly at Dwalin, muttering something excitedly, and Dwalin frowned as he regarded him.  
“What's that now?” Dwalin asked gruffly. “Slower, ya great goob, I can't keep up!”  
Dwalin watched carefully as Bifur repeated the gestures, with a few broken words in Khuzdul that Thorin managed to make out. The names Golorin and Crenig were said a couple times, and now Bifur had everyones attention.

Dwalin groaned angrily as Bifur finished, and he turned to translate for the rest.  
“It would seem our general has appointed a new soldier Captain.”  
“Crenig,” Thorin's voice was strained as he spat the name with venom. He didn't need to see Dwalin's nod for verification. Of course Golorin would appoint that viper as captain. He rubbed at his head and turned to his advisor.  
“Balin, what do we do?”

* * * * *

Bilbo admired the chunk of wood he and Dis had picked out from the marketplace. The mahogany was dark, and rich in color, with an almost reddish tone. It was firm, hopefully enough to last, but soft enough for him to work with. He was pleased. It would make a fine betrothal bead.

“Bilbo? Are you going to finish your lunch? I never thought the day would come when I would have to remind you to eat,” Dis's voice pulled Bilbo from admiring the piece, and he set it down on the table, shooting Dis an amused look.

“I am eager to begin.”  
“How long do you think it will take you?” she asked curiously.  
Bilbo shrugged. “A day. Maybe two. It should not take too very long. The design I intend is simple, and I have significant experience with carving. At any rate, I would not sleep if I thought it would take over long. I would have no problem working through the night to finish the task. I do not wish for Thorin to continue to suffer.”  
“And I'm sure it has nothing to do with your eagerness at getting to finally court him,” Dis said smugly.  
Bilbo quirked an eyebrow at her in amusement. “Oh no, of course not. You know how much I dread the thought.”

Dis chuckled lightly. “Well then, Master Baggins, I do believe you should get started. Let me know when it is done. I have a finish we can coat it with that will make it shine, and protect it from water. Now I think I am going to go find my sons. I seem to be misplacing them more frequently as of late.”

Bilbo frowned. “You know, I noticed they have not been around overmuch lately. Where do you suppose they get off to?” 

“Probably training. Kili enjoys honing his skills with the bow and Fili, if he is any sort of responsible, should be studying and spending time in meetings with Thorin. Of course he's sheltering the boys a bit from some of the things that have been going on. So it wouldn't surprise me if they were both slacking off and getting into mischief.”

She stood and quickly moved around the table to his side. He rose from his chair as she laid her hands gently on his shoulders.  
“There are knives and other tools in my brother Frerin's old rooms. Come. I will show you before I leave.”

Without another word, she led Bilbo into the very room he had spent the day hiding from Thorin after the coronation. He should have known it belonged to their brother, and the fact that it did, and Dis was now giving him permission to use the late prince's things was a bit overwhelming to the hobbit.

“Here,” Dis said, pulling a leather case from the top of a dresser. “You should find everything you need in here to work on your piece. You are welcome to work in this room, any time and for as long as you would like.”

Bilbo took the case carefully from Dis's hands, running his fingers reverently over the leather.  
“Are- are you sure I should be using Frerin's things?”  
“Completely sure. Since he is not here to witness our brother's courtship and happiness unfold, I know he would be honored if it began here.”

Bilbo gave Dis a watery smile. “I don't know how to thank you.”  
“Start by ending Thorin's suffering. That stubborn fool won't know what hit him.” She gave Bilbo a playful wink and bent the short distance to plant the brush of a kiss on his cheek, then swept out of the room in a swirl of her dark blue skirt.

Bilbo smiled to himself and quickly found a good place to get comfortable and set to work.

* * * * *

It was late when finally Bilbo stopped carving, and his bead was completely shaped. All he would need to do now was hone in the fine details, transforming his work from a mere smooth bead to a customized piece of art. Though, the way Bilbo's stomach was protesting, he figured he had worked far past afternoon tea and dinner, and so he decided to pack up and call it a day. 

When he returned to the sitting room, he found supper waiting on the table for him, but nobody was there to share it with. It was strange, how Thorin was suddenly too busy to spend any time with him at all lately. Was he perhaps mistaken in the dwarf's regard for him? He couldn't remember the last time the two of them shared more than a brief moment together, and the thought made him anxious. His appetite suddenly abated, and so he grabbed up a single biscuit and padded off to bed.

* * * * *

Thorin trudged miserably into his rooms. He was once again beyond exhausted, and he was sure he hadn't eaten since lunch, but he was too tired to truly care. He sat on the edge of his place on the lounge and began kicking his boots off. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo's voice was confused and still full of sleep as the hobbit stirred from his slumber and pushed himself up to sitting.

“Yes?” Thorin whispered softly into the dark.  
There was a heavy silence as Thorin began to undress. He flung his tunic hastily to the floor and began on the laces of his pants. Bilbo swallowed audibly as more of the dwarf's skin was revealed, the moonlight shining in and casting him in its otherworldly glow. Thorin pulled on his pajamas and looked at Bilbo expectantly.

Bilbo cleared his throat and wet his lips nervously. “W-would you... Do you mind...” Bilbo tried to answer after the silence stretched on for too long.

“Do you wish for me to join you?” Thorin spared Bilbo the struggle of finding enough coherency to properly ask.  
“Please?”

Thorin grinned and his eyes softened as moved across the room to join Bilbo in the bed. The hobbit held the blankets back and Thorin crawled in at his side. As soon as the dwarf had settled in, Bilbo was against him, snuggling in and nuzzling his face into a firm chest. 

Thorin froze for a moment, then allowed himself to melt into the contact. He hadn't realized how troubled his mind had been, how clouded and obscured his thoughts were still, until Bilbo was laying against him and his mind suddenly cleared. The gold had never truly let go, and the realization hit Thorin like ice in his veins. 

Bilbo fell asleep quickly, but Thorin lay awake, taking full advantage of the clarity the hobbit gave him. He buried his nose in soft golden curls and placed his hand gently between Bilbo's shoulder blades. Finally, he allowed the hobbit's steady breathing to lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome! More soon!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to get interesting.  
> I hope you enjoy!

The haze of sleep lifted slowly, and a few things quickly came to Thorin's attention. The first was that Bilbo had turned over in the night, and now the entire back of his body was flush against the front of Thorin's. The second was the effect such closeness was having on him, and there would be no hiding it when Bilbo woke up. Thirdly, the hobbit was groaning in his sleep again. 

Thorin felt guilty at the path his thoughts had been taking when Bilbo was so clearly experiencing another nightmare. He gently ran a soothing hand through the hobbit's hair.  
“Bilbo?” he whispered softly, trying not to startle the hobbit.  
“Thorin,” Bilbo's voice was pleading, and Thorin knew it would not be long before the hobbit began crying out in earnest.  
“Bilbo wake up,” he placed a hand on the hobbit's hip and shook him lightly.

The hobbit whimpered slightly, and Thorin supposed he may have to sing to calm him if the nightmare didn't loose its grip. He sighed into Bilbo's hair and rubbed comforting circles on his hip.  
Bilbo's back arched deliciously, grinding him into Thorin as he let out a lewd moan.  
Oh. Oh this was not a nightmare at all. Thorin felt heat rise up through him pleasantly. A thrilling shudder ran up his spine and his blood thrummed through his veins, heading south faster than his heart pounded in his chest. He needed to hear more. To see the way the hobbit's face might contort as he sighed and whimpered. He propped himself up on his elbow so he could watch Bilbo's face as the hobbit began to squirm against him. 

“Thorin, please,” Bilbo begged in a breathy gasp. Thorin inhaled sharply and threw a hand over his mouth. He carefully rolled out of the bed and tip toed to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him. He quickly began yanking down his pants, desperate to free himself as his breath came out in shaky gasps. 

How many times had Bilbo brought him to this? And how many more times would this happen before he finally mustered up the courage to do something about it? Not that these things should be rushed. Sex would have to wait until hopefully, Mahal willing, the hobbit would decide he wanted to bond with Thorin for life. But there were other things they could do that would prevent him from ending up here. In the bathroom. Stroking himself to completion like an adolescent. Again. 

Thorin leaned against the door, holding it in place so there could be no repeat of his almost being caught the last time. He slid his hand slowly down, wrapping his fingers around his shaft, and brought the other one up and clamped his teeth on his fist to stifle his groans. He ran his hand along his length a few times, but he stopped when he heard a gasp from the other side of the door. He turned his ear toward the sound, listening intently. There was a sharp intake of breath, and the unmistakable sound of skin on skin.  
Thorin dropped his hand from his mouth and his eyes widened.  
Durin's beard. The hobbit was just outside the door. Pleasuring himself. At this very moment. Thorin slammed his head back against the door as a particularly vocal sigh came from the other side. He stroked his hand over his shaft again, letting out a hesitant groan. The voice on the other side responded in kind, and by the sounds, Bilbo's hand had taken up pace. He was getting close.

Thorin began stroking in earnest, letting his moans and gasps fall uninhibited from his lips as Bilbo's did from the other side of the door. 

Suddenly the hobbit keened, and then there was a brief moment of silence, before Bilbo moaned obscenely. Thorin's eyes rolled back and he felt his end nearing at the delicious sounds and he closed his eyes and tightened his grip, holding his breath as it hit him. He gave out a gasping cry as he came to the sound of Bilbo panting to catch his breath. 

Bilbo stood frozen, leaning against the bathroom door. Had he really just..... he shook his head. He couldn't think of this right now. He scrambled to find something to get himself cleaned up before Thorin came out.  
Then he stopped.  
This was ridiculous. No doubt Thorin was doing the same, and how could he possibly feel embarrassed when it was obvious the dwarf had clearly enjoyed himself just as much as Bilbo had. 

Bilbo had woken up when Thorin had rolled from the bed. He realized he had been talking in his sleep, which was quite mortifying when he thought of what it was he had been dreaming about. He made his way to where Thorin had shut himself in the bathroom, intent on apologizing, when he heard the unmistakable sound of the dwarf touching himself. 

Bilbo couldn't help it. Just the thought of the dwarf with his hand down his pants, mouth slack, head thrown back in pleasure, his wavy locks askew, blue eyes pinched shut in complete rapture... Bilbo groaned.

They may as well both find a little relief, and so he'd pulled up his sleeping shirt and freed himself. He felt a bit nervous, acting so shamelessly, but then he'd heard the dwarf moan, and so he let out his own in response. The sound of Thorin's head hitting the door behind him urged him on, and he allowed himself to be more and more vocal as it seemed to drive Thorin higher. 

Hearing the king enjoying himself in such an intimate way spiraled Bilbo to his finish quickly, and he was glad he had reached his end soon enough to hear Thorin's. And now, with the curtain of arousal lifted, he wondered how Thorin would react to what they had done. 

Oh, this could be quite awkward. Bilbo cleaned himself as best he could and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Thorin to emerge.

Thorin stood at the sink, gathering his composure. He splashed cool water on his face and sighed deeply. He was being an utter fool. There could no longer be any denying the attraction he and Bilbo had for one another, and he should finally do what the others had been urging him to do all along. He would begin designs on a bead. As soon as he was done with his meetings this afternoon. It would be difficult, finding time to work on it between all the things he was already trying to deal with, but it needed to be done. 

Thorin went over and opened the door a crack. He caught sight of Bilbo, sitting thoughtfully on the bed. He pushed the door open and the hobbit glanced up shyly, blushing as he met Thorin's gaze. 

Thorin grinned, a bit of mischief in his eye, and he was pleased when Bilbo smiled back.  
“Good morning, Bilbo.”  
Bilbo blushed more furiously and glanced away quickly.  
“Good morning,” he mumbled.

Thorin walked over, taking a seat next to the hobbit, who was examining his hands in his lap. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. “I wish I could stay, but I need to meet with Balin.” He glanced sidelong at Bilbo, giving him an amused grin. “Certain activities have made me a bit late.”

Bilbo pinched his eyes shut and swallowed thickly. “I-I'm sorry.”  
Thorin shrugged, raising an eyebrow as Bilbo hesitantly met his gaze. “I'm not.”  
Bilbo grinned, finally facing Thorin. “Will I see you for lunch?”  
“It depends on how the day goes.” Thorin's face suddenly fell, the worry finally catching back up with him. “I have a lot to do.”

Bilbo's smile disappeared as he was overcome with disappointment. “Oh.”  
The air was suddenly heavy with the stress that had settled back on Thorin's shoulders. His jaw clenched and his eyes lost their softness as he stood up.  
“I am sorry. I will send Dis in to care for your wounds.” He started to walk away, then turned back to Bilbo with a disconcerted look on his face. Quickly, before he could change his mind about it, he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss to Bilbo's forehead, and hurried to take his leave.

Bilbo's smile returned as Thorin took his hasty retreat. Perhaps he could have his bead ready by tonight. Or tomorrow at the latest. He jumped up and nearly ran to the bathroom, intent on readying himself for the day so he could start the designs to finish off his bead.

* * * * *

Kili set his eyes on the center of the target, where he had already buried half a dozen arrows. He pulled back, bracing his hand against his cheek and took a deep inhale. He steadied himself and released his breath, just as he loosed his arrow. The sound of it joining the others through the center and thudding loudly into the post in the back was satisfying beyond measure. He grinned self assuredly and turned to go fill his quiver again. The sudden appearance of Fili stopped him dead in his tracks and he jumped back a bit. 

“Fili? What are you doing here?” Kili was not expecting company. He was usually not interrupted by anyone during his early morning practices. 

“I should ask you the same thing,” Fili replied, raising an eyebrow. “Is this where you have been losing yourself every morning these last weeks?”

Kili shrugged, making his way around Fili to collect his things. Fili would not be deterred.

“And what, pray tell, is the reason for your sudden obsession with honing your archery skills? Not that it is strange for someone to work toward mastering their weapon. But why do you sneak off before anyone has risen? What is it you are hiding, I wonder?” Fili said almost as though he were thinking out loud. 

Kili ignored him, shouldering his quiver of arrows and holding his bow at his side as he made his way from the room, Fili on his heels.

“Kili, I know you've been up to something, and you may as well tell me. You know I'll figure it out anyway. And I already have a pretty good idea what you've been doing.”

Kili stopped abruptly, Throwing his head back and sighing loudly to the ceiling.  
“Then why must you ask?” Kili groaned, throwing an exasperated look at his brother.  
Fili smiled. “And.....?”  
The corner of Kili's lips quirked into a half grin. “Captain Gilda has asked me to join her ranks.”  
Fili's smile grew and he threw an arm around his brother, pulling him into a playful headlock and ruffling his dark hair.  
“My baby brother, an archer! Won't amad be so proud?” Fili relinquished his hold on Kili, but kept his arm around his shoulders.  
“Please, Fili, she has enough going on right now. I'll tell her when things calm down,” Kili pleaded.  
“Don't be ridiculous. She would be heartbroken if she found out you were keeping this from her.”

Kili sighed, rubbing his eyes in exasperation. “Where is she then?”  
Fili grinned triumphantly. “With our future uncle, helping him put the finishing touches on his bead.”  
“Alright then. Why don't we join them for lunch, and I will tell her.” 

* * * * *

Thorin scrubbed at his face in irritation. “I want Tamir, Crenig, Boru, and Burg in here. I want them questioned immediately! We cannot wait any longer, I must know if they intend to carry out any of their plans.”

Balin nodded. “I understand, Thorin. They had designs against my own brother, of course I want them stopped if it is still their goal. However we cannot be certain. It is entirely possible they were acting under Thror's orders, and therefore such plans may have been dropped.”

“We need to find out. Get them in here. Today. This afternoon.”  
“Yes, My King,” Balin bowed and set off to write up a summons and get them out immediately. 

Thorin buried his face in his hands, glad for the moment alone as he tried to gather himself before the guild members he had summoned would show up. The gold still called to him, and it made it hard for him to focus. His temper flared at the slightest provocation, and he found his thoughts more and more troubled as the day went on. 

It had begun the moment he stepped out of his rooms, much like the pain of his untended bond. Though now, the tonic was taking off the edge, and the call of the gold was filling in the gaps. He worried it would not take long before he was completely consumed. He had considered ordering Dwalin to lock him up if the pull was too strong, and it looked as though he may need to do just that. He would not endanger the kingdom and his loved ones as his grandfather had before him. 

Thorin schooled his features as the door opened, and Dwalin led Damir and Tabor in to the council room. 

“Oh good. Good morning Damir. Tabor. Don't bother sitting, this won't take long. It has come to my attention that the two of you have continued issuing your raised tax rates on your guilds, which makes it apparent you are determined to continue taking advantage of your positions as guild masters. You are obviously pocketing the excess, and keeping your members from making an honest living. As such, I hereby strip you of said positions. You may remain members of your guild, but you will no longer hold a position of power. Dismissed.”

Tabor and Damir stood in shock, mouths gaping wordlessly at their sudden removal from their positions and hasty dismissal.  
“Dwalin, get them out of here. I have more important matters to deal with at present,” Thorin waved his hand at the slack jawed dwarves, and Dwalin had to suppress an amused chuckle as he pushed them out the door and closed it behind them.

“Well, My King, I have never seen you jump so quickly to the point,” Dwalin said as he came to sit next to Thorin.  
“The threat to the lives of my officers concerns me more. Especially the threat to you, my friend,” he looked up at Dwalin as he finished his statement, his eyes serious and filled with concern.

Dwalin nodded. “I know. I will be fine. And I will help you find every piece of evidence I can.” 

The door opened and Balin strode back in. “It is done. They will be here after lunch.”

Thorin nodded once. “Good. Then we will plan our questions now, so we are ready before they arrive.”

* * * * * 

Dis sat quietly, watching Bilbo consider his bead. He had been deep in thought for the better part of the last hour, deciding exactly how to go about carving his design. He had started with a band of flowering vines, winding around the length of the bead. Honeysuckle, he had explained, were a symbol of devotion and bonds of love. He thought it would be the perfect part of him to give to Thorin, a declaration of his devotion. Now he was ready to add the focal point, and Dis did not want to break his concentration. 

The door suddenly opened, and Fili and Kili came bounding happily in.  
“Afternoon, Amad, Uncle Bilbo. Hope you haven't eaten as we've sent for quite a large lunch to be sent up!” Fili announced cheerfully.

Bilbo's cheeks reddened at the greeting, tucking the bead into his pocket and replacing the tools in the leather pouch. 

“Thank you, boys. Bilbo and I have not eaten since first breakfast. I'm sure he is quite hungry,” Dis said, rising from her spot on the couch.

“Yes. I am famished,” Bilbo declared as he stood. He regarded the boys for a moment, sensing something was amiss. He furrowed his brow, looking from one to the other. “What have you two been up to?”

Fili turned to Kili, clapping him on his back with a smile. “Go ahead, Kili. Tell them.”  
“Tell us... what?” Dis asked skeptically, narrowing her eyes at her sons.

“Captain Gilda has recruited me. I start training under her next week.”

“Kili, that's wonderful!” Bilbo smiled as he clapped the prince on the back.  
Dis wordlessly approached her youngest son, arms open wide to pull him into a fierce hug. “I am so proud of you, Kili.”

Kili smiled and closed his eyes, relishing the warm embrace of his mother's arms. She pulled back and regarded him, as though she had never seen him clearly before.  
“How is it possible you are old enough to join Erebor's army?”

Kili blushed, grateful when there was a knock at the door.  
“That'll be lunch,” Bilbo said softly as he went to fetch the tray. It took he and Fili both to bring the two trays in to the room. The boys hadn't been exaggerating. They had asked for a small feast to be brought up. Bilbo was thrilled, as he hadn't realized how hungry he was until there was food right in front of him. He sat down and immediately tucked in, eager to fill his empty stomach.

“Hungry, are you?” Kili quipped as Bilbo shoved another biscuit in his mouth.  
“Oh,” Bilbo said, struggling to finish the mouthful. “Well, I did miss two meals. I've been quite busy, you know.”  
“How close are you to finishing it? Uncle is nearly losing his mind over your bond,” Fili asked.  
“Your uncle would do better to have taken care of this from the very beginning. But then, it would have been quite different for two dwarves. The spark would have been experienced on both sides, in which case there is no room for miscommunication,” Dis said, shaking her head in defeat. “Of course Thorin would be the one destined to a member of another race. He is a bit daft. Only he would be blind to your feelings, Bilbo. To the rest of us, I hate to tell you, but you are quite transparent.”

Bilbo blushed a bit, and Dis looked at him suspiciously.  
“I- I am sure he no longer has any doubts...” the hobbit mumbled softly, looking down at his food.  
Dis nodded slowly, sure she did not want to hear this particular story, the way Bilbo's face had turned crimson under her gaze. She shrugged and shook her head.  
“In any case, you suspect you will be finished by tomorrow?”

“Yes. I intend to attempt to convince him to join me for supper, and I will offer it to him then,” Bilbo answered, glad for the change in topic.  
Dis smiled warmly. “I will be sure my sons and I are.... otherwise occupied elsewhere, so you will have some privacy.”

* * * * *

Thorin paced the length of the room as the officers seated at the table eyed him warily.  
“We have reason to believe that you once planned to remove some of the army's officers by unsavory means. Do you deny it?” Balin asked the dwarves from his place across the table. He raised his bushy brows, giving them a pointed look.

“Where would you have gotten such an idea?” Captain Crenig asked in shock.  
“It was my brother, wasn't it?” Tamir's voice held only resignation. “I heard you came looking for him shortly after I was imprisoned. You cannot trust him, My King,” the former lieutenant looked to Thorin imploringly. “He has always been jealous of me. He had planned before to try to take my position from me.”

“Your brother isn't even in the army, how would he expect to acquire such a title without being in the position to even be considered to take it?” Balin asked in disbelief.  
“By befriending the king, of course,” Tamir answered solemnly. “He will sink to any level.”

Balin studied the lieutenant's face, searching for some sign of ill intent, but the dwarf held his expressions in a blank mask.  
“How can we be certain this is not a plot to throw us off your trail? The last thing you would want is more evidence against you.” the old advisor challenged.

“We can't,” Thorin's voice caused the others to jump, as he had been silent through the entire meeting. “There is no way to know who to trust for certain, is there? Go. You are dismissed, but know this. If you in any way harm any of my officers, I will personally strike you down. You will not see me coming, and you will not walk away intact.”

The officers gave Thorin worried glances as they exited, the last of them Tamir being ushered by three guards back to the prison. The bang of the door shutting behind them echoed through the room.

“Fantastic. We know nothing more than we did this morning,” Dwalin said as he scratched at the back of his head. “Now what?” He turned to his brother, demanding an answer.

Balin shrugged. “I- I honestly don't know. We can search Thror's rooms again, see if we've missed anything....”  
“No.” Thorin's voice was firm as he leveled his advisor with a pained look. “We will not dig through that room any further. There is nothing left to find.” He began to pace again, hands clasped rigidly behind his back. 

“Well, I suggest we put those three on surveillance, get Nori to follow them sporadically for a while,” Balin suggested. 

“Very well. By all means, give the order,” Thorin threw out bitterly as he strode across the room.  
“Yes, My King,” Balin answered uncertainly. He got up and moved swiftly, taking his exit.

“Thorin, what's troubling you?” Dwalin asked his friend seriously.  
“Other than your life potentially being in danger?” Thorin threw back.  
“Well, my life is in danger more often than not, and I'm still standing,” the guard answered easily.  
Thorin shot him an unamused look, and the guard shrugged.  
“I am off shift soon, and I'm meeting Ori and his brothers for supper. Are you ready to go?”  
“No. I will go with the night guard. You go ahead,” Thorin answered, and Dwalin looked at him uneasily.  
“You're sure you're alright?”

“Yes, I'm fine Dwalin. I just want to be alone with my thoughts,” Thorin's response was an obvious dismissal, and the guard quickly left the room. 

Dwalin closed the door, frowning to himself. He looked at Gloin, who was posted just outside. “I will send the night guards down to relieve you. The king wishes to be alone.”

Gloin furrowed his brow. “Is he... alright?”  
“No. No I don't think he is. I am going to let the night guards know. If something happens, I want to be notified. Want me to notify you as well?”  
Gloin nodded, and Dwalin turned and strode down the hall.

* * * * *

Thorin didn't return to his chambers until well into the night. Bilbo had already been asleep, and Thorin didn't seem to notice his presence in any case. He laid down on the lounge, not bothering to remove his boots or change, and stared up at the skylight above him in a daze. His mind was a blank slate, and he couldn't seem to find a coherent thought through the fog that clouded it. He had been laying there for several hours, or maybe it was only minutes. He couldn't tell, as time seemed to stretch on endlessly, and it meant nothing to him. His heart beat slowed and he could hear it thudding wetly in his ears. He broke out into a cold sweat, and suddenly, he could not be still any longer. He stood up and moved mechanically towards the door, reaching out for the handle. His hand looked strange to him, and he felt separate and distant from his body as he pulled the door open and strode through the sitting room. 

Thorin opened the door to the hall, and it felt like the mountain itself was holding its breath as he strode out into the eerily quiet corridor. He did not even seem to notice his guards exchange worried glances as one followed him, and the other running off to get Dwalin. 

Thorin moved through the halls, feeling like a ghost roaming in his own kingdom so late at night. Time seemed to stand still and the pounding of his heart in his ears slowed as he got closer and closer to his destination. He didn't know where he was going, his feet moved of their own accord, guiding him through the mountain on instinct until they planted firmly outside his grandfather's door. The pounding stopped, replaced by the alluring call from within the room. He hesitantly reached forward, and pushed the door open. 

It was pitch black, but Thorin's eyes could pick out the shadows of the furniture standing idle in the dark. It felt as though the room itself was waiting in anticipation as he moved through it, intent on his path to Thror's bedside. There was a buzzing in his head as he reached forward, not realizing what it was he sought until his hand wrapped around it under the mattress. 

There was heat. Heat like molten gold flowing through his veins and a roar in his head like a triumphant beast awakening. Thorin pulled his hand from under the mattress and his eyes fell on the prize held in his grasp. 

The Arkenstone. 

“Thorin!” Dwalin's voice hit him like a wall and he shook his head, frowning at the concern in his friends tone. How could Dwalin be so full of worry? He had found the Arkenstone. He would never be challenged again, never be questioned. He could rule all he pleased, never bending to anyone. He could protect those he loved, and strike down his adversaries.

“Thorin?” His little sisters voice shook him, as it was laced with fear. Dis had never been afraid, not since.... Thorin shook his head, the roaring lowering back to a dull buzz in the corners of his mind as he allowed Dis to take the stone from his hand.

She was taking the stone. His stone! His right to rule! He grabbed her wrists, intent on taking back what belonged to him. He jolted at the startled gasp that fell from her lips and his eyes met terrified green ones. 

“Dis?” He looked around, searching for the source of her fear. He caught the faces of Dwalin and Gloin around him, their eyes reflecting the same terror, all directed at him.

Thorin looked down again, noticing his vice like grip on his sisters wrist. He quickly loosed his grasp and took a step back.  
“Take that accursed thing and get it as far from me as possible,” he spit out venomously, and everyone stiffened. 

Dwalin's cautious voice filled the silence. “Take what, Thorin?”  
Thorin looked around bewildered as he struggled to figure out why they were all so astonished. 

Dis. He had been looking at Dis. He closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath.  
“The stone, Dwalin. Get it out of here, now! I want this room stripped of gold. I want it melted down and turned to coin. Take that stone and hide it. Smash it. If that doesn't work, send for Gandalf. He'll know what to do with that wretched piece of rock.”

Dwalin and Gloin let out sighs of relief as Thorin's eyes seemed to clear. Dwalin moved to take the stone from Dis, who hadn't taken her eyes of Thorin's since he'd grabbed her. He took it carefully, shooting Thorin a questioning look, and Thorin nodded to him to go ahead. Dwalin turned to leave, Gloin close behind him as Thorin turned to his little sister.

“Dis?” he said softly, reaching out a tentative hand. “Dis, I'm so sorry.”  
Dis seemed to finally shake herself from shock and her face hardened as she pulled back a hand and struck Thorin across the cheek. His face snapped to the side, and he held his breath as he awaited his sister's wrath.

“What the fuck was that, Thorin?!” She bellowed angrily.  
The king grimaced, rubbing at his face gently. He was sure he would bear a mark where she had hit him, and honestly he had deserved it.

“The stone,” he said softly, lowering his gaze. “It called to me. It has been calling to me for days. I thought it was the gold, but since Dwalin took it, I do not hear it any longer. It was in my head, clouding my thoughts. I could not shake it.”

Dis assessed him warily, then she relaxed her shoulders and sighed.  
“I saw it. In your eyes. It had you,” her voice broke a bit on the last words.  
Thorin nodded. “I'm sorry.”  
He was surprised when Dis took his hand gently and gave him a fond smile.  
“I know. I am too,” she said, assessing the damage of her short temper. “Come, Thorin. Let's get away from here.”

Thorin followed gratefully as Dis led him through the halls and back to the royal chambers. He was glad for her guidance, as he suddenly felt weary beyond measure. His eyelids drooped and he began to stumble as they rounded the last corner, and Dis hooked her arm through his to better help him keep his steps. She pushed the door open and led him inside and through to his bed chambers. 

Thorin looked up in confusion as Dis led him to the bedside.  
“No,” he whispered, “this is Bilbo's bed.”  
“Shhhh. Sit,” she responded.

Thorin wanted to argue, but he didn't have it in him. He did as he was bade and sat on the bedside and Dis crouched down to remove his boots. He didn't know when he had closed his eyes, but suddenly he was laying down on a soft pillow and there were whispered voices conversing over him. He sighed gratefully as a soft warm body pressed into him and gentle hands ran soothingly through his hair and sleep quickly took him into its warm embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have all been wonderful! Thank you for supporting and encouraging me!  
> Let me know what you think!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, she updates! It has been a crazy week, and it's only going to get crazier. I have been so good about posting twice a week, but it may only be once this time. Hopefully I get back to my usual two next week. Business is picking up as we come into tourist season and I am working quite a lot! Be patient with me, I promise I will not let this go to the wayside.

Bilbo woke to his nose tickling. He twitched it once, trying to quell the itch, but it persisted. He blinked his eyes slowly open, then squeezed them shut against the dark tendrils of Thorin's hair curling about his face. He brought up a hand to carefully brush the strands away and turned over to look at Thorin. 

The dwarf was still fast asleep, snoring gently into Bilbo's shoulder. Bilbo didn't want to wake Thorin, but he quickly became aware that he could not feel his hand, as his arm lay beneath the dwarf's head. He cradled Thorin's head in his other hand and gently slid his arm from beneath him. Thorin stirred a bit, but did not wake, and Bilbo smiled fondly as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind the dwarf's ear. He got up quickly and went to take his morning bath.

* * * * *

When Bilbo returned, he was not all that surprised to find that Thorin was still asleep. He grabbed his jar of salve and went off in search of Dis or one of the princes to help him with his back. It was obvious the king was in need of rest. 

Bilbo padded into the sitting room, happy to find Dis already enjoying her usual cup of tea.

“Good morning, Lady Dis,” he said softly, hoping not to startle her.  
“Good morning Master Baggins. I assume you will be needing my help with your salve again this morning?”  
“If it won't be a bother.”  
“Oh no, no trouble at all.”

Bilbo smiled as he came around to sit next to Dis on the couch. He removed his shirt and turned, giving her access to his back.

“So, do you want to tell me what happened last night?” Bilbo asked gently.  
Dis sighed. “It was not a good night.”  
“No, I assumed not. But I do wish to know a bit more than that.”

“Thorin fell under the thrall of the Arkenstone. It was a gem my grandfather held more dear to him than anything. The king's jewel. The heart of the mountain. It is what ultimately consumed him and drove him mad. It sat above the throne for some time, before my grandfather grew too paranoid to leave it out in the open. It disappeared one day, and nobody was bold enough to ask about it.”

Bilbo frowned, trying to wrap his head around the new information. “How did Thorin find it?”  
“It called to him.”  
“It- what?”  
“It called to him. It is rumored that our line carries the tendency towards gold sickness. Gold sickness, or Dragon sickness, as it is called by some, causes you to obsess over treasure and eventually go mad. It is said that we are particularly susceptible. More likely than most to fall to it.” Dis's voice sounded sorrowful, full of a reluctant acceptance of fate.

Bilbo turned to face her, concern marring his features as he took her hands into his own. “That cannot be true. There must be some other explanation.” His frown deepened as he looked down, seeing the angry red marks around her wrist. “Dis, what are those?”

“The price of our lineage. Of the weakness in our blood.”  
“Thorin did this?” Bilbo's voice was laced with disbelief. Surely Thorin was not responsible or even capable of hurting his sister.

“He was not himself. It is hard to explain, especially for one who has not experienced the pull of the Arkenstone themselves. I only know that it consumes you, negates all rational thought as it eats at your mind. You no longer recognize friend from foe, and you lose control of your own thoughts.”

Bilbo shook his head, refusing to believe his chosen family was so ill fated.  
“This is not the destiny of the line of Durin. Thorin will not fall to this. You will not fall to this. Or Fili or Kili... Surely there is another reason this has happened, and I will do whatever I can to keep it from happening again.”

* * * * *

It was nearly lunch when Thorin finally rose. He looked around the room, trying to make sense of place and time. He remembered being in his grandfather's chambers, but not how he got there. He remembered his shameful actions. The pull of the Arkenstone, leading him away from those he trusted and loved most. The weight of it in his hand, and the fury in his veins as his sister had taken it. 

How could he have let the call of the Arkenstone overtake him so easily? He had hurt Dis. Dis, the closest family he had. The rock who had supported him so resolutely through every heartache and trouble. His little sister. His dearest friend. 

Thorin quickly changed his clothes, assuming Bilbo had heard of his failings, and probably did not wish to see him. He combed his hair and pulled on his boots, then left his bed chambers. He kept his head down, ignoring the questioned looks of Bilbo and Dis as he avoided their eyes as he darted out into the hall.

Thorin continued to beat himself up as he made his way through the mountain, and finally entered his council chambers. He looked up as he opened the door and stopped short, surprised at the gathering that met him. Balin and Dwalin stood to the side, Oin, Ori, and Bombur stood before the table, and Gloin closed the door behind them and took up his place next to his brother.

Thorin looked to them in confusion. Had his friends decided to lock him up after his episode the night before? It would only be right, after he had behaved so horribly. He was clearly unstable, and it was up to them to hold him accountable and be sure it never happened again.

“I think I know what is happening to you,” Oin said with a pointed look. 

Thorin set his jaw, determined to meet this moment head on. “Gold sickness. I am well aware of what is happening to me,” he said firmly, ready to accept his fate.  
“But we may now know why,” Oin lips quirked into a half grin.

Ori came forward and dropped the large book he had been holding onto the table with an ominous thud. He flipped it open and skimmed quickly through it. When he found what he was looking for, he tapped it with a determined finger and looked up at the king.

“Here, I have been doing a fair bit of research, and I have found something interesting,” Ori's tone was gentle, but eager, putting Thorin a bit more at ease. “I have found that by leaving a bond unattended, the defense of the mind tends to weaken. With your soul being left vulnerable, and the side effects experienced, it would make sense that you would be susceptible to most illnesses. Prolonged suffering of an unattended bond could very well lead to madness all on it's own. I believe this is how gold sickness happens to our kind,” the young dwarf announced.

“So, as you can see lad, it is of the utmost importance that you initiate a bond with Master Baggins. The amount of time you have spent avoiding it has made you susceptible,” Oin followed up Ori's little speech.

Thorin frowned. “Are you telling me, that my grandfather went mad because of an unattended bond?”

Oin shrugged. “Quite possible, and we can explore that possibility later. But for now, something must be done, or you are doomed to share in his fate.”

Thorin looked to the serious faces that surrounded him. “You... you are not here to lock me away?”

Balin chuckled. “Mahal, no. Why would we lock you up, lad?”  
“The- the gold sickness. I am not stable. I cannot be trusted!” Thorin declared stubbornly, eyes raking over his friends in confusion.

Balin shook his head.

“You idiot, do you really think you are that lost if you can still put those kind of thoughts together?” Dwalin asked in amusement.

Thorin's frown deepened and he tilted his head slightly in confusion.

“Lad, do you have any urge to harm us?” Oin questioned him.  
“No,” Thorin sounded insulted by the suggestion.  
“And you whole heartedly believed that we were here to overthrow you?”  
“Yes.”  
“Did you intend to come quietly?”  
“Of course.”  
“Then no. You are not a danger. But I would advise that you rectify the situation immediately, before you become one.” 

Thorin frowned at the floor, taking in this new information. After a moment, he looked back up to Balin.

“You want me to go, right now? I have already missed much of the day. There is so much to be done. The guild masters-”  
“I will begin searching for candidates to replace the ones that have been fired.”  
“Crenig and the lieutenants-”  
“Nori is watching them, and I will notify you at once if he comes to me with any news.”

Thorin nodded. “Very well. Gloin, will you accompany me to my forge? It seems I have need to begin work on a much anticipated courtship bead.”

* * * * *

“It is finished,” Bilbo announced, glancing sidelong at Dis and the boys with a crooked smile. He held up the bead between two fingers, watching the firelight shine off the dark wood.  
“Here here, let me see!” Kili insisted, taking hold of the tiny thing and turning it over carefully in his fingers.

It was exquisite, down to the finest details. The vines along the top and bottom were depicted beautifully, with individual curls and honeysuckle blossoms laced along them. Around the middle, carved with perfect precision were Khuzdul runes that read “My love, My King”.

Kili smiled as he admired the piece, then Fili snatched it from his hand.  
“Let me see!” the golden haired prince yelled as he took the bead for his own inspection.  
“This is very well done, Bilbo. Did mother help you with the runes?”

Bilbo shrugged, blushing at all the praise. “Her and Ori. Do you think he'll like it?”  
“Well, you made it,” Kili answered, as though that were answer enough.

“But, is it too plain?” Bilbo sounded pained, the nerves were clearly getting to him. His hands refused to keep, flitting here and there a bit as he spoke. “It's just a bit of honeysuckle and a few simple words.”

Dis raised a brow at him. “Simple?” She shook her head lightly, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she leveled him with a serious look. “You are a hobbit. You have no king. To acknowledge him as such openly declares your devotion and loyalty. Such things mean much to a dwarf.”

Bilbo nodded, visibly relieved at the statement.  
“Now, I have something for you,” Dis said as she reached into her pocket. She pulled out the most beautiful comb Bilbo had ever seen. It was made from a shining metal Bilbo wasn't familiar with, set with sapphires along the handle. Dis held it out to him, and he ran a reverent finger over it.  
“This was my mother's. My father crafted it from mithril and gifted it to her when he offered her courtship. Now, you can gift it to Thorin.”

Bilbo opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to find the words to express his gratitude as he took the comb from Dis.  
“I- Dis, are you sure?” Bilbo looked up at her in disbelief, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes.  
“Yes. I am sure. It will mean almost as much to him as you do,” Dis answered softly, leaning forward to rest her forehead against Bilbo's.

The hobbit smiled and closed his eyes, letting the emotions of the moment curl around them. Dis leaned back and returned his smile with a crooked grin.  
“Now, with that settled, we should finish working on your braiding,” Dis said, breaking the spell. 

They spent a great deal of time, working on Bilbo's braiding. He had no practice, but he was a quick learner, and soon he had mastered a simple plait.

“That is a good start, but you must still learn the more complicated courtship braid,” Dis said as she got up from the couch. “I have a few things to tend to with the guilds. Thorin fired two of the guild masters the other day, and now I am filling in until new ones can be appointed. Fili, you work with him. And Kili,” she pointed a finger at him and gave him a warning look, “hold still.”

Kili grumbled as Dis left the room. “Why did it have to be me?” he groaned.  
“Because. You are the youngest,” Fili answered shortly as he helped Bilbo separate Kili's unruly hair to begin again.

* * * * *

Thorin felt lighter as he headed to his chambers. He was nervous, but ultimately, he could at least admit to himself, he was relieved to have something force his hand with Bilbo. Holding himself back from the hobbit had been nothing less than excruciating. 

Thorin was glad to have spent time at his forge. It had been too long, and focusing on the craft cleared his head. He had thought about it as he worked, and decided he would kiss Bilbo to initiate bond, and let him know he was making a bead to gift to him later. He would explain the situation, as unorthodox as it would be to initiate a bond without having the bead first. He was sure Bilbo wouldn't mind. He stopped as he approached the royal quarters and placed a hand on the door, taking a deep settling breath. 

Thorin pushed the door open and stopped short at the sight that greeted him. Kili knelt on the floor before the couch, Bilbo perched on the cushion behind him. The hobbit was braiding his nephews hair. That would be bad enough, but it was the unmistakable weave of a courtship braid.

No. No, this could not be. He had been certain of the hobbit's feelings, how could this be happening? He clenched his jaw and turned on his heel, nearly running to get away as Bilbo and Kili both called out for him.

“That could not have been any worse,” Bilbo announced as the door slammed shut behind the obviously horrified king. Bilbo and the princes bolted off to find Thorin and hopefully explain what was happening.  
“He can't have gotten far,” Fili announced. “Bilbo, you and Kili check the common areas. I'll look for mother and check the meeting rooms.”

They moved quickly, searching everywhere they could think of to find the king. They were rounding a corner when they were spotted by Ori and Dori, who were on their way back to the market.

“Bilbo? Kili? What's happened?” Ori asked, handing his quill and parchment to Dori next to him as he turned to take up pace with the frantic pair.  
“We have to find Thorin. He...” Bilbo couldn't finish the sentence. The thought that Thorin could ever get the idea that there was something between Bilbo and Kili made the hobbit feel ill.  
“He walked in as we were teaching Bilbo to braid. Using me,” Kili finished for him, his tone dark and heavy.  
“Would you like some help looking?” Dori's voice from behind them caused all three of them to jump. Ori looked back at his brother fondly, glad he had decided to follow them.  
“Yes. We could use all the help we can get. He looked very upset and it won't be easy to find him.”

Dori went off to drop off Ori's things before meeting back at the library. He would check every hall and chamber on his way, hopefully happening upon the king. Ori left to find Dwalin, as the guard always knew where his king was. And in any case, he would be one of the few who might know where Thorin would try to hide. 

 

It had been nearly three hours before everyone met back at the library, and there had still been no sign of Thorin. 

“I couldn't find mother anywhere either,” Fili said glumly.  
“This is all my fault,” Ori sighed, “it was my idea to teach Bilbo on one of the princes.”  
“Well, I had to learn somehow, and that was the only realistic way to do it. Thorin will have to come back to the royal chambers eventually, and I suppose if he doesn't want to be found, he won't be. Let's all just let it be and hope he comes around.”

“Unfortunately, Master Baggins is most certainly right. Come Ori, Dwalin. I'll get dinner on,” Dori said, leading the other two away. As he passed, he put a reassuring hand on Bilbo's shoulder. “He'll come home sooner or later, and he'll be thrilled when he learns the truth.” Bilbo returned Dori's warm smile half heartedly, and allowed Fili and Kili to lead him back to the royal chambers.

* * * * *

Bilbo felt entirely defeated as he returned to the rooms. The building excitement from earlier had nearly died out at the thought of the agony Thorin must be feeling. He tried to imagine how he would feel if he was under the impression that Thorin wanted another, and the thought was like knives to his heart. He pinched his eyes shut against the nausea such feelings brought on and pushed the door open softly. He padded into the dark and shadowed room, determined to stay up as long as it took for Thorin to return.

The fire had nearly died down, just a golden orange glow of embers remaining and the bedchamber was beginning to develop a chill. Bilbo moved toward the hearth, sighing deeply, when he was suddenly aware he was not alone. He tip toed closer, getting a better look at the dwarf before the hearth.

Thorin sat in his chair, his head resting on a curled fist and elbow on the armrest. His posture was tense, and Bilbo thought as he crept timidly across the room he heard the dwarf sniffle lightly. As he got closer, he noticed a glimmer of firelight reflecting on Thorin's face.  
The king was crying.

“Thorin?”  
The dwarf sat up quickly, wiping the moisture from his cheeks and arranging his expression into one of indifference. He attempted to cast an aloof gaze at Bilbo, though the hobbit could see those sapphire eyes were laced with pain and longing.  
How had he ever doubted Thorin's feelings?

“Thorin, let me explain-”  
“There is nothing to explain, Master Baggins. I should have expected this, what with Kili being the vibrant young prince he is, and an attractive descendant of the Durin line to boot-”  
“No, no Thorin-”  
“Please, Master Baggins. I'm- I-I am h-happy... for you. I am sure you've gotten to know each other quite well, as he is often around when I cannot be. You've spent a great deal of time together and it's only natural that you would-”

Bilbo let out an aggravated sigh and dropped to his knees before the king's chair. Thorin stopped his rambling mid-sentence and looked down at the hobbit, his mouth snapping shut and his eyes betraying his sudden confusion. Bilbo reached into the pockets of his waistcoat and pulled out two small items, which he presented to Thorin, one in each hand.

“Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King under the mountain. I am but a simple hobbit of the Shire, I have no crown upon my head, nor land or armies to offer you or your kingdom. All I have to offer you is my heart, and I formally request permission to braid this courting bead into your hair.”

There was a long stretch of silence, in which Thorin sat in shock, and Bilbo held his breath, kneeling on the floor with his gaze fixed on his own knees. 

After several long and silent moments, the hobbit glanced up worriedly and was startled by the heart-breaking vulnerability in the king's eyes.  
“Th-Thorin?”

The dwarf could only shake his head dumbly and stammer.  
“I-” he dropped his gaze again to the bead in Bilbo's hands, reaching forward to run his fingers over it reverently. “Bilbo, did you fashion this?”  
“Is... are you accepting-”  
Thorin rubbed at the moisture in his eyes. “Yes.”  
Thorin regained some semblance of control over his expressions and fixed his eyes warmly on Bilbo's. “I formally accept your request to begin courtship. But I thought Kili-”  
“No, you silly dwarf,” Bilbo shook his head and smiled fondly. “Kili is a sweet lad, but I have no interest in him. Not like that. I did not know how to braid, and so we all thought-”  
“We all?” Thorin furrowed his brow, leveling the hobbit with a questioning look.

Bilbo nodded slowly as he answered, suddenly nervous that perhaps there were too many dwarves involved. “Yes. Dis, Dwalin, Ori, Fili and Kili and myself-”

“How long have all of you been working on this?”

“Oh! Just a few days. Anyway, we thought it would be most proper for me to learn on someone who would be considered family, if this were to-” Bilbo swallowed thickly and blushed a little, “if we were to-”

“Wed?” Thorin finished with an amused smirk.

Bilbo's eyes fluttered shut and his face flushed at the suggestion, but he was grateful Thorin could finish the sentence for him. “Yes.”

Thorin shook his head again, amused at his own idiocy. “I am sorry. I don't know why I would think that you were pursuing courtship with Kili. I should have known better, after all that we've shared.”

Bilbo grinned as he rose from the floor, hesitating a bit on the rug. He lifted his open hand, and Thorin again ran a finger over the fine carving of his bead.  
“May I?” Bilbo asked softly  
“Please,” Thorin's voice was low and laced with anticipation.

Bilbo moved to stand at Thorin's side and slowly began separating out a section near his temple. He gently combed through the locks and parted it in to sections near the scalp and began braiding. His hands shook slightly, and he sincerely hoped he did not pull too tight or yank at Thorin's head.

Thorin was beside himself. He had always found enjoyment in having his hair combed and braided, but having it done by Bilbo was near torture. The light tugs of careful fingers as Bilbo began the braid prickled at Thorin's scalp pleasantly. His heart began pounding a rapid staccato against his ribs as uneven breaths caressed the side of his face. The feel of those fingers running so gently through the length of his hair as Bilbo worked his way to the ends sent shock waves all through Thorin's body. 

Bilbo set the bead and finished off the braid and came around to admire his handiwork. He reached forward and brushed his fingers through the raven waves over Thorin's shoulder, pushing the locks back a bit. 

Thorin visibly shuddered.  
“Are you alright?” Bilbo asked in concern, suddenly noticing the king's rigid posture. His shoulders were tensed, his hands clenching his knees and now that Bilbo was looking closely, he saw that Thorin was a bit flushed. 

Bilbo's raised an eyebrow as his mouth slowly curled up into a cheeky grin. “I daresay you enjoyed that,” he said softly.  
Thorin smirked and closed his eyes as he turned his head to avoid the hobbit's gaze. “I did.”

If Bilbo didn't know any better, he would say Thorin was playing coy. He reached over and took the dwarf's hand, tugging lightly to encourage him to stand up. Thorin complied, rising to his feet and standing suddenly very close to Bilbo.

“You know what happens next, don't you?” Thorin asked, his voice low and gravely.

Bilbo nodded and rose up onto his toes a bit. He leaned in hesitantly, placing his hands lightly on Thorin's chest and looked up into intense blue eyes. Thorin's hands found his waist, and there was a moment of anticipation as they regarded each other uncertainly. 

Thorin brushed a bit of hair back from Bilbo's eyes and they both leaned in. There was a soft brush of lips and a shared heated glance, then they pressed together a bit longer.

Thorin's lips were soft and pliant, and his beard rasped pleasantly on Bilbo's face. There was a warmth in his chest, and he was a bit startled as it seemed to fill a place in him he hadn't realized was empty. He pulled back and looked up at Thorin questioningly.

“Our bond has begun,” Thorin answered the unspoken question softly, smiling down at the hobbit.  
Bilbo smiled back, and leaned in to kiss him again. Their lips met more firmly this time, and Bilbo took a chance and pulled Thorin's bottom lip between his teeth. Thorin gasped and Bilbo took the advantage and ran his tongue lightly between parted lips. What had started as a chaste kiss was quickly becoming heated. 

Bilbo pulled back again, his eyelids flickering as he looked up and he was pleased to note that Thorin's face held the same hungry look. He reached up and wound his hands into thick black waves and pulled Thorin down into an urgent kiss. He moaned against Thorin's mouth, and the dwarf took the opportunity to deepen it, taking Bilbo's chin and tilting his head slightly. Bilbo's eyes rolled back at the feeling of their tongues sliding together wetly as he tried to find a rhythm. 

Thorin's body was singing. There was a feeling like being released from a pair of shackles, and a rightness he had never experienced before. He was quickly lost to the heat of the moment, his hands smoothing over the hobbit's soft and pliant body, eliciting gasps and tremors from the smaller form. 

Bilbo was insatiable. His hands ran through Thorin's hair, then down to press against his firm chest and around to smooth up his back in a way he had always yearned to. He pulled away, gasping lightly and gave Thorin a heated half lidded gaze.

“Do we have to stop?” Bilbo asked breathlessly.  
“No.” Thorin grabbed the hobbit's backside and pulled him up, Bilbo's legs wrapping around his waist on instinct as he took a couple steps and pinned Bilbo to the wall. He rolled his hips and the hobbit groaned, throwing his head back at the onslaught of friction. Thorin rolled his hips again, the sensations nearly overwhelming, even through the layers of clothing that held them apart.  
“Thorin, please,” Bilbo gasped, “the bed-”

Thorin needed no more direction that that, and hauled the hobbit over to the bed. He laid Bilbo down and quickly lowered himself to take Bilbo's mouth with his own, locking them together as they crawled toward the pillows. 

Thorin finally pulled back as Bilbo reclined himself into a nest of pillows. He sat up and kicked off his boots, situating himself between Bilbo's legs. Then he grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled it up over his head, baring the expanse of skin to an impatient hobbit. 

Bilbo was enticed by the sight and quickly sat up to touch. He set his palms against Thorin's stomach, running them up over the tight muscles and rested them over a chiseled chest. His eyes softened a bit as he traced his fingers along the tattoo over the dwarf's heart, letting out a soft chuckle.

Thorin suddenly felt a bit self conscious. “What is so amusing?”  
Bilbo gazed up at him playfully from beneath his lashes. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and put his hands flat on Thorin's chest again, pushing lightly for him to lay down. 

Thorin complied, a bit befuddled, and settled onto his back. He grunted when Bilbo clambered onto his lap, locking their hips together and rolling them deliciously. Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him and began unbuttoning his waist coat. Thorin watched with bated breath as the hobbit flung the waist coat aside and began working on his shirt. When the offending article had finally been removed, Thorin's breath caught and his jaw dropped slightly in awe as he reached up to touch the black mark over Bilbo's heart. 

“What- how-?” Thorin couldn't find the words to voice the questions filling his head, but of course Bilbo understood.  
“Every hobbit is born with a mark. A mark over their heart, identifying their soul mate. Their One.”  
Thorin shook his head, frowning up at the suddenly somber hobbit. “Why didn't you tell me?”  
“I didn't know. Not until your coronation.” He gave Thorin an accusing look. “Why did you not tell me of the spark?”

Thorin had the good grace to blush and turn his gaze from Bilbo's pointed stare.  
“I didn't want to overwhelm you. There was enough you had to deal with, without me complicating things.”

Bilbo glanced at him sidelong, his eyes full of amusement.  
“Funny how, when first we met, you told me I didn't belong to you. That I need not belong to anyone, but I've been yours all along. There was never a choice.”  
“You do have a choice, there is always a choice. I would never expect you to-”  
Bilbo held up a silencing hand. “Thorin, I don't want a choice. And if you insist that have one, I will choose you every time.” 

Thorin groaned as Bilbo leaned down and took his mouth in another fevered kiss. His hands flew up to grasp onto the hobbit's back as their hips rolled together again and again. Thorin's movements picked up a bit as the sensitive head of his cock caught on the waist of Bilbo's pants on every upstroke.  
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. 

Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo and rolled on top of him, sitting up to fumble desperately at his laces. Bilbo seemed to have the same idea, and reached up to help him. Finally the laces came undone and Thorin yanked his pants down and kicked them off as Bilbo began working on his own. 

Thorin laid down next to Bilbo as the hobbit finished kicking off his pants with a frustrated groan. Their eyes met suddenly and Thorin lost himself in Bilbo's enrapturing gaze. They stayed that way for a moment, taking each other in, before Bilbo slid closer, pressing their bodies together, eliciting a deep rumbling growl from Thorin's chest. Bilbo met Thorin's heated gaze and slowly moved his hands down. 

Thorin's heart was pounding and he barely dared to breathe as he watched those soft hands slide teasingly over his stomach and down past his navel. He gasped slightly as fingertips brushed through coarse hair and lingered for a moment, before finally wrapping hotly around his cock. 

Thorin groaned and his eyes rolled back as Bilbo gave him a few experimental strokes, sending intense sparks of pleasure through him. He closed his eyes as the hobbit set a rhythm, gently sliding his hand up and down the shaft and twisting his wrist at the head. 

“Open your eyes,” Bilbo whispered. “Look at me. I want to see you, Thorin.”  
The dwarf did as he was bade and met Bilbo's gaze. He felt the heat coiling and tightening as he rose closer and closer to the brink, his hips thrusting of their own accord. He took in a sharp inhale as it hit, his mouth dropping open into a silent scream and eyes pinching shut before he let out a deep reverberating moan, his peak hitting him with surprising intensity. He came in thick stripes over Bilbo's hand as his orgasm crashed over him in powerful waves. 

Bilbo's slowed his movements as he gentled Thorin through the aftershocks, smiling at the sharp panting exhales ruffling his hair gently as the dwarf struggled to catch his breath. 

“Your turn,” Thorin panted, pulling the hobbit close again. Bilbo was about to protest when Thorin took his mouth with his own and rolled to hover over him again. The dwarf looked down at the hobbit, intensity in his gaze as lowered his hand to slide teasingly along the inside of Bilbo's thighs. The little gasps and mewls that fell from Bilbo's lips as Thorin let his hand brush lightly over his sensitive length nearly set the dwarf aflame. Finally, he submitted to Bilbo's pleas and wrapped his hand around the hobbit's now throbbing cock and quickly began to stroke. The sight of the hobbit writhing and thrusting up into his hand was one Thorin would not ever tire of. He relished every little groan and plea he could elicit as he brought Bilbo closer and closer to his peak. He knew it was coming when he felt the length in his hand pulse violently and then Bilbo was moaning obscenely and yelling his name and oh, it was intoxicating. 

Thorin leaned down and kissed Bilbo on the forehead, the cheek, the nose, and finally took his mouth in a languid kiss. He pulled back and rested their foreheads together, letting the hobbit catch his breath. 

“I much prefer not to be separated by a door,” Bilbo quipped when his breathing had finally slowed.  
Thorin chuckled and dropped to his side, sliding one arm under the hobbit and reaching over to grab his shirt with the other. He wiped his hand on the shirt and offered it to Bilbo, who wrinkled his nose a bit, but followed suit, wiping his hand clean. Thorin tossed the shirt onto the floor and pulled Bilbo close, tucking him securely under his chin. He felt around with a foot until he found the twisted blankets and kicked them into submission before reaching down to pull them up and wrap them securely around he and his new future bond mate. The rest of the kingdom could go on without them until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Kissing and touching and beads and braiding. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> Thank you for comments and kudos! They keep me going. And most of all, thank you for reading. Let me know what you think!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! She updates! I'm still here, I promise! Hopefully I can get back on track with my updates. I hate leaving them for so long!! Thank you for being so patient. Please enjoy!

Thorin blinked his eyes slowly open, an unfamiliar, but pleasant warmth in his chest quickly making itself known. The rush of events of the night before hit him, and he was overwhelmed with relief and excitement, that quickly soured into fear and embarrassment. 

Had he pushed too hard too fast with Bilbo? Normally, the kind of physical acts they had lost themselves in were saved for somewhere closer to the end of courtship. 

When Bilbo opened his eyes and smiled sleepily up at him, Thorin lost the will to regret. He would not change a thing about their first night exploring each other, even if it was a bit premature. To be fair, if he had initiated their bond that first night, it would be a bit late for the kinds of feelings and activities they had so recently partaken in. Bilbo nuzzled his face into the crook of Thorin's neck and hummed softly.

“Morning,” came the muffled voice from somewhere in the depths of hair draped around Thorin's shoulders.  
“Good morning,” Thorin replied softly, gentling a hand over the bare skin of Bilbo's back. “Did you sleep well?”  
Bilbo pulled away to shoot Thorin a sidelong look. “Did you?”  
Thorin smiled warmly. “Yes. Very well.”  
Bilbo grinned and buried his face again, eager to shut out the light of morning calling them from bed.

The knock at the door did the job, and Bilbo pulled himself closer to Thorin as the dwarf rolled up onto his elbow. 

“Yes?” Thorin called over the hobbit's head.  
The door opened just a crack, and Dis poked her head in the room, a wicked grin brightening her face as she noticed Thorin's state of undress. Thorin paled as he recalled the last interaction he had had with his sister.

“Well, good morning brother,” she chuckled as Bilbo groaned into Thorin's arm.  
“Balin is asking for you. Shall I tell him to give you an hour?” She raised her eyebrow suggestively.  
“Or three,” Bilbo mumbled from beneath the blanket.  
Dis laughed openly at the aggravation in Bilbo's voice, and Thorin couldn't help but chuckle a bit himself. Apparently, Dis was not going to hold his actions against him. He was thrilled to see her smiling, to hear her effortless laughter.

“I think three would be pushing it,” Dis chided playfully, “but I will tell him you need a little time before you will be able to meet with him. Shall I tell him you will be joining them Bilbo?”

Thorin leaned back to meet Bilbo's eye questioningly. “Well Bilbo, would you care to spend the day with me?”  
Bilbo's smile grew as he took in the king's eager face. “Yes. I would very much like to spend the day with you.”

* * * * * 

Thorin and Bilbo walked hand in hand through the mountain, questioning looks and knowing grins greeting them around every corner. It seemed there were more dwarves aware of Bilbo, and the king's fondness for him than the two of them had imagined. They stopped before the council chambers, and Bilbo let out a shuddering breath. Thorin looked at him with a furrowed brow, eyes full of worry.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.  
“Yes. I'm- I'm nervous. Now we are officially courting, am I expected to behave a certain way? What if I disappoint your subjects? Your guild masters? Officers? Councilmen? Why, even your friends?” Bilbo's voice was near frantic as he finished, ticking off all possible avenues of insult and embarrassment.

“Bilbo,” Thorin turned, placing his hands gently on Bilbo's shoulders and turning him so they stood facing each other. “my friends and family already love you. Nobody expects you to be anything other than what you are. A hobbit. A brave, eloquent, intelligent hobbit who holds their king's heart. You will not disappoint them, and you could never disappoint me.” 

Bilbo blushed as he met Thorin's eye with a sheepish grin. “You are a hopeless sod.”  
There was a chuckle behind them as Dwalin and Gloin shared amused glances.  
“Yes. Yes I am. Are you ready?” Thorin answered, shooting his guards a playfully reproachful look.  
Bilbo sighed and turned back to face the door. “Lead on.”

Thorin opened the door, and Dwalin and Gloin took up their posts in the hall as Thorin and Bilbo walked in together. They were greeted by an openly beaming Balin, who quickly leapt up to his feet.  
“Well well, it's about time, lads!” the old dwarf reached forward to press his forehead to Thorin's, and then to Bilbo's. “I'd say congratulations are in order!” 

Thorin's smile was infectious as he looked down fondly at Bilbo. “Yes, it is long overdue, I believe. What business have you to report?” he asked as he suddenly noticed Dori and Ori seated at the table. Both were grinning happily, and Ori looked to be squirming in his seat with the urge to run to his friend and share in his happiness.

“As it were, I wanted to officially request permission to appoint Dori here Master of the Textile Guild. He has been a member for many a year, is already a master of his trade, and I believe he will be an honest and responsible dwarf for the position.”

Thorin nodded as Balin spoke, eying Dori thoughtfully. “It seems the Brothers Ri have become quite important assets to the crown. Dori, I formally offer you the position of Textile Guild Master. Do you accept?”

Dori rose from his seat, meeting the king's gaze with a respectful nod of his head.  
“Yes My King, I would be honored to accept the position.”  
“Good. As it were, I also have a position to offer young Ori,” Thorin announced, much to everyone's surprise. 

Ori blushed, eyes widening as he suddenly became the center of attention.  
“Ori, there seems to be a very concerning issue with this kingdoms records. Proper paperwork has not been kept on any official business, and Balin here does not have the time to spare to organize and keep so many notes. Bilbo and Dwalin have both told me of your vast knowledge of our laws and political system and typical protocol. I am told you are organized and thorough, with a passion for the written word. I formally offer you the position of Erebor's Official Scribe. This is a new position, one that I believe will make business run much smoother for the kingdom. I would like to test it out, and if it works, this could be a permanent position for you throughout my reign. Do you accept?”

Ori stood, nodding as he swallowed audibly. “Y-Yes, My King. I am honored you have chosen me for this position.” Dori smiled at his little brother, patting him reassuringly on the back as Ori finally gave a half grin. 

“Wonderful! Dori, thank you for joining us this morning. You are dismissed until I have the proper paperwork drawn up for you to sign,” Balin said cheerfully. He turned to Thorin. “Would you like young Ori here to start with his record keeping today?”  
Thorin nodded as he took his seat. “Yes, if he is willing. I should think proper records need to be started immediately, with all that's going on at present. Ori?” 

“Yes. Yes I can stay,” Ori replied excitedly, turning to his brother. “I'll be home later, Dori.” Dori nodded and gave his little brother a quick hug before taking his leave. Ori watched him go, his eye catching Dwalin's as the door opened and Dori left. Dwalin's amused grin made Ori blush all the harder, and Bilbo raised an eyebrow at his friend. 

“Well then, first thing, Ori let's get you a bit of parchment and a quill, then we'll go over today's business,” Balin announced as he got up and went to pull the necessary items from a shelf behind the table. “Here we are,” he set the parchment, quill, and ink well before the scribe, and quickly retook his seat.

“First item of business, Ori, will you make note of your brother's newly appointed station, as well as your own? Then we need to discuss who to consider for the remaining Guild Master position.”

The meeting was relatively short, and no official decisions were made. Thorin and Balin discussed at length the dwarves and dams already involved in the Forge Guild, and narrowed it down to five or six potentials. It was nearing mid day when Thorin abruptly stood, stretching and yawning hugely, effectively ending the discussion.

“I believe it is time for lunch. I'm tired and hungry, and I daresay we all need a break,” Thorin announced as he eyed Balin, who gave in with a small sigh.  
“Very well. Why don't we bring in the Forge Guild in the next few days and ask for their opinion. I think they would be able to point us in the right direction,” Balin said as he too got up from his chair. 

“Bilbo, would you care to join me for lunch? In the Dining Hall?”  
Bilbo swallowed. “You mean publicly? With the rest of Erebor?”  
Thorin nodded. “The ones who choose not to eat in their own apartments, yes.”  
Bilbo blanched. “You realize you would be publicly displaying our.... courtship? To your subjects?”  
“Of course.”  
Bilbo nodded jerkily, swallowing again. “A-alright. Yes. I would love to have lunch with you.”

Bilbo put on a determined face and took Thorin's offered arm. They walked to the door, an amused Balin and grinning Ori following close behind. Dwalin and Gloin took up pace behind them as they moved out into the hall, Ori taking up stride between the two guards.

“Seems I'll be seeing more of you, now you're involved in Thorin's meetings,” Dwalin murmured at the little scribe with a suggestive grin.  
“Yes. It would seem so,” Ori returned the look with just a hint of a blush. They continued in silence as they followed Thorin, Bilbo, and Balin to the Dining Hall.

The room was enormous, larger by far than the library, but not quite as vast as the Throne Room. Bilbo was astonished at the number of dwarves present, some seated at the long wooden tables filling the room, and some at various food stands that lined the walls. The ceiling was so high, Bilbo could not make it out as it seemed the darkness far above them swallowed it up. Perhaps there was no ceiling, and the cavern continued ever upward. Two rows of huge columns seemed to split the room into three equal parts, the left and right sides lined with tables, and the middle left empty for the dwarves heading to their tables with trays of food. 

“There are many different options, each cart is owned by a member of the Culinary Guild, some have one cart, while others own several,” Thorin explained, leaning toward Bilbo as he gestured toward the line of carts along the wall.

“And, does each cart have different foods?” Bilbo asked in disbelief.  
“Not necessarily. Some of them do have their own specific things they prepare that you cannot find elsewhere, but some simply have their own recipe for common dishes. For example, most carts have some form of potato available, but none of them are the same. Erling over there cuts and boils his potatoes with nothing but salt, far to bland for my taste, but Balin prefers them that way. Bombur, on the other hand, boils his potatoes and mashes them with butter and cream, which, I must say, is absolutely delicious.”

“And your favorite potatoes?” Bilbo asked, smiling in amusement.  
“Kari's. She mashes them with butter and cream, and flavors them with salt and a most delicious herb. She won't tell anyone what it is she uses, claims it's a trade secret, but I care not. I always get my potatoes from her.”

Bilbo giggled a bit to himself, delighted in Thorin's interest in the preparation of potatoes. Who would have known how particular dwarves could be about food? Almost as bad as hobbits.  
“And does Bombur mind that it is not his potatoes you favor?” Bilbo asked.  
Thorin gave him a sidelong glance. “Not since it's Kari's I favor.”  
Bilbo furrowed his brow, eying the king suspiciously. There was something more to the statment. 

Thorin grinned. “He has been pining over her for months.”  
“Sounds familiar,” Bilbo quipped.  
Thorin chuckled. “Yes, well, Kari came to Erebor nearly a year ago, with a caravan from the Iron Hills. My cousin Dain is king there, and our subjects tend to relocate from time to time. One look, and Bombur was lost.”

“So, why doesn't he just... accidentally brush hands with her and see if she's his One?” Bilbo asked.  
Thorin shook his head. “He is too nervous to talk to her. In any case, there is the possibility she is not his One, and will turn down any offers of courtship. Some dwarves refuse to settle for any other but their soul mate, while others are perfectly content to choose a dwarf they fancy and bond with them instead.” 

Bilbo frowned as he thought about that. Never knowing if there was someone out there who was better suited to you, instead allowing yourself to love another. It seemed like a pretty big gamble.

“Come. Let's get our trays,” Thorin said, leading Bilbo to the first stand.

Bilbo followed Thorin happily as the king explained where to find the freshest breads, the tastiest meats, and the most crisp vegetables. Thorin handed Bilbo a tray, loading it with the best of everything, paying each chef as they moved from one cart to the next. 

Finally they took a seat, setting down their loaded trays and sitting at the largest table at the head of the hall. Dis, Fili and Kili soon joined them, the brother's nudging each other playfully as they took their seats across from Thorin and Bilbo. 

“Good afternoon, Uncle Thorin, Uncle Bilbo!” Kili greeted as he dropped heavily into his seat.  
“Hello, Kili,” Thorin replied humorlessly, leveling his nephew with a slightly disgruntled look.  
“We brought you an ale to celebrate your courtship!” Fili yelled as the brothers handed over two large mugs. Dis shook her head in amusement, deciding to let them have their fun. “To our new uncle!” Kili declared, raising his mug and slamming it into Fili's. The two quickly made a game of it, knocking the mugs together and attempting to slosh each other with ale. 

Thorin and Bilbo clicked their own mugs together, perhaps a bit less enthusiastically, and Bilbo paused as he put the mug to his lips. A metallic smell hit his nose, immediately putting him on the alert. Something wasn't right. He lowered his mug and turned to Thorin, who was about to take a drink.  
“Thorin, no!” Bilbo smacked the mug from Thorin's hands and it clattered noisily to the floor, spilling its contents across the stone. The other dwarves froze, eying the pair warily as Thorin frowned at the hobbit.  
“Bilbo?”  
“Poison,” Bilbo's voice was hushed and panicked, and Thorin's eyes widened as he stood and bent to pick up the mug. He put it to his nose, and though his sense of smell was not as keen as Bilbo's, he could pick up on the faint odor with a deep inhale. Dwalin was at his side in a moment, standing on alert as his eyes swept over the room. 

“Uncle, we bought that ale off Bombur himself. How could anyone have been able to poison it under his nose?” Fili was obviously shaken, nearly beside himself with the thought that he and Kili were responsible for handing their uncle poison.

“Your Highness! Your Highness, what's happened?” Bombur's voice carried over the crowd as the large dwarf ran to the king's side.  
“Poison,” Dis answered.  
“How? That ale was from my private stores! How could that have slipped past me?” Bombur was clearly troubled and angry at the very thought.

Thorin didn't answer, but stood glaring at the spilled liquid staining the floor. He took Bilbo's hand and quickly led him from the room. Dwalin, Gloin, Balin, Ori, Bombur, Dis, and the princes were quick to follow as they left the Dining Hall. Bilbo struggled to keep up as Thorin was intent on reaching safety immediately, worried for the hobbit, as well as himself. They made their way to the royal chambers, Thorin deciding that would be safer than meeting in the council rooms. 

Thorin yanked the door open, finally relinquishing his hold on Bilbo's hand as they reached the safety of the room, their friends filing in behind them. Thorin offered a chair to Bilbo, and the others found a seat around the table, as the king took up furiously pacing nearby.

“My King, I humbly ask for your forgiveness. Never should poison have made it past me. This is unacceptable,” Bombur began, deciding to break the silence.

“There is nothing to forgive, unless it was you who tainted the ale in the first place,” Thorin responded numbly, shaken by the turn of events of the afternoon.  
“Thorin, I would never-” Bombur began, but Thorin cut him off with a raised hand.  
“I know, Bombur. You would never. That is my point. There is nothing to forgive. I want to know who is responsible.”

“Could it be the elves?” Kili speculated.  
Thorin gave him a scolding look. “You know we are at peace with the elves. They are above such acts.”  
Kili frowned and leaned back against his chair deep in thought.  
“And Boru? Burg? Crenig? Or even Golorin himself?” Dwalin suggested.

Thorin stopped pacing and rubbed at his temples.  
“Or Damir? Tabor? Any number of your grandfather's supporters could have orchestrated this!” Balin added.

“Yes, yes it could be nearly anyone,” Thorin huffed. “Bombur, go back to the kitchens and see if you can find anything. Maybe there will be some scrap of evidence to give us a lead. See if all your stores have been contaminated, or if it was just those mugs.” Bombur bowed, his eyes determined as he excused himself from the room. 

“Dwalin, go down and send up three more of your best guards. Ori can go with you. I want four with Bilbo and I at all times, and you with Bilbo if we are not together. Gloin, I would have you escort Bilbo and I to the training grounds.”

“Uncle,” Fili began, “may Kili and I go assist Bombur?”  
Thorin nodded. “Please. And reassure him that I do not blame him. I'm certain he is beating himself up at present.”

“What would you have me do?” Dis asked curiously.  
“Stay safe. And do not wander this mountain alone. I know better than to try to order you around, but I do request that you come with Bilbo and I.”  
Dis grinned. “Of course, Thorin.” 

There was the sound of the long bench scraping against the stone floor as the dwarves and hobbit rose and began filing out of the room. Fili, Kili, Dwalin, and Ori took the hall to the left, down toward the common areas, as Thorin, Bilbo and Dis took the hall to the right, descending toward the training rooms. 

* * * * *

Nori stood in the shadows between the columns outside of the Throne Room, waiting for his target to move. He had been following Crenig for hours, and the dwarf had yet to do anything more interesting than stop at a dwarrowdam's apartments for a couple hours. 

Nori had been there before. The dam was known to welcome all and sundry into her bed, having denied her One in favor of living freely with nearly every unbonded dwarf in the mountain. Now the newly appointed captain seemed to be stalling, waiting for an opportunity to escape the dwarves who kept trying to pull him into conversation. 

Nori sighed quietly to himself. Then he sprang into action as Crenig suddenly saw his opportunity and ducked down a corridor. Nori struggled to keep up without blowing his cover as he followed the captain down a side hall. 

Crenig turned a corner, and Nori stood against the wall, glancing around every few seconds until the captain was far enough away that he wouldn't hear his pursuit. Nori glanced around the corner, and was startled to find that Crenig had vanished. He quickly darted down the hall, eager to find his quarry, but not yet willing to let himself be found out. He was about to give up when there was a shout from around another corner. 

“Crenig! You're just in time! Hold him still!” a voice echoed through the hall. Nori picked up his pace as he heard a familiar voice bellowing in rage.  
“Keep your hands off him you coward!” Dwalin. Nori would recognize the sound of Dwalin's fury anywhere. He sprinted down the hall and finally came around the corner, immediately livid at the scene that greeted him. 

Crenig had Ori held around the middle. The smaller dwarf was struggling fiercely, flinging his head back and finally making contact with the captains face as he shouted for Dwalin. Dwalin was on his knees, his wrists bound behind him by Boru, who was laughing and jeering as Burg laid punishing blows into the guards face.

“Not so tough now, are ya!” Burg spat, landing another hit to Dwalin's cheek.  
“How'd you manage to capture him?” Crenig asked the other two gleefully.  
“Simple. We made for that one and old Dwalin here dropped his defenses.”

Nori narrowed his eyes, preparing to fight to the death. He drew the dagger he kept in his sleeve and lunged around the corner. Crenig was nearest, his back to Nori as the spy grabbed him by the hair and yanked him down, Ori tumbling backwards with him. Nori grabbed his brother's hand and pulled him up, the scribe instantly rushing to Dwalin's aid. Crenig leapt up, and Nori had no choice but to engage him. He managed to give the captain a few minor cuts as he slashed his dagger through the exposed flesh of Crenig's forearms. He hoped Ori would be able to free Dwalin and keep himself from harm until Nori could help. He dodged as Crenig lunged for him, kicking out a foot and grabbing the captain, spinning him into the wall with enough force to stun him for a moment. 

Nori rounded on the other two, proud to see that Ori had taken Burg to the floor and was now pummeling the lieutenant furiously. Boru still held Dwalin, obviously afraid of what might happen if he let the enraged captain go. He was glancing back and forth from Nori to Crenig, weighing his options as Ori beat Burg's face in. 

“Whoa!” Fili's voice echoed through the hall as he and Kili came upon the scene.  
Kili wasted no time, leaping to Dwalin's aid and Fili engaged Crenig so Nori could hopefully keep Ori from becoming a murderer.

“Ori, stop!” Nori ran to his brother's side, grabbing his wrists in an attempt to pull the scribe's hands from Burg's throat. He finally managed to pull his enraged brother off before he choked the life from the lieutenant. Ori bellowed in rage as Nori wrapped him in a vice grip, holding him tight until he finally stopped struggling. 

Burg didn't try to get up. He turned to the side, letting his nose drip rivulets of blood over the floor as he struggled to catch his breath. 

“I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you, Burg!” Ori roared at the lieutenant.  
“Shh shh, Ori, it's alright. He's not getting up, are you Burg?” Nori asked in amusement. Burg barely had the ability to lift his gaze and instead slumped down onto the floor in defeat.

“Ori?” Dwalin's voice was weak as he called out to his One.  
“Dwalin!” Ori spun violently and lunged for the guard on the floor. Boru and Crenig had run off, Fili and Kili dropping pursuit in favor of tending to their friends. 

“Are you alright?” Ori asked, his hands hovering over Dwalin as he contemplated where might be safe to touch. He settled for laying them gently on Dwalin's chest as the guard smiled weakly up at him.  
“Yea, 'm fine,” Dwalin answered. “You were amazing, Ori.”  
Ori beamed at the praise, happy Dwalin was well enough to speak at all.  
“Did you see which way they went? We need to go after them,” Dwalin's face was suddenly serious as he leveled Fili and Kili with an intense stare.

“You aren't going anywhere but the infirmary, old man,” Nori demanded from behind them. He was perched on an unconscious Burg, forearms resting on his thighs as he regarded the others. “Come on Fili,” the spy said as he stood, “let's get him up.” 

Ori moved out of the way, Kili looking over him and inspecting his various bruises and cuts and Fili and Nori carefully eased Dwalin off the floor. Ori moved over between his brother and his One and he and Fili pulled Dwalin's arms around their shoulders, holding most of his weight. 

“Here, Kili, help me with this one,” Nori said as he made to yank Burg off the floor. Kili complied and the two half drug the lieutenant as Fili and Ori limped the guard through the halls, Ori shooting Dwalin anxious looks as they made their way to the infirmary.

“No, no, to the training grounds,” Dwalin gasped between pained breaths.  
“You need to see Oin immediately,” Ori scolded, giving Dwalin an angry look.  
“Ori please, we need to tell Thorin. Now. He has to get a team scouring the mountain for the other two before they disappear.”

Ori scowled, but nodded stiffly. “Fine. Kili and Nori will fetch Oin and bring him to the training grounds after they find a place to store that one,” Ori shot the unconscious lieutenant a look of disgust.  
Kili smirked at Ori's tone, amused at the usually timid scribe's sudden fierceness.  
“What happened to this one anyway?” the dark haired prince asked.  
“Ori here let him have it. Shoulda thought twice before laying a hand on Dwalin,” Nori answered proudly as he and Kili dragged the scum down the opposite hall.

* * * * *

Bilbo stood uncertainly, watching as Thorin showed him again how to hold his sword properly. The thing was far too large, and unbearably heavy. Bilbo was convinced he would never be able to use it effectively, but Thorin's faith in him pushed him on. And so they had spent the afternoon practicing the fundamentals, half with Bilbo watching as Thorin sparred against Dis. The other half was spent with Thorin against Bilbo's back, guiding his hands through the movements of attacks and blocks as Dis slowly mirrored the movements before him. Bilbo had spent the majority of the time trying to calm his pounding heart, his body singing at Thorin's gentle touch and the feel of him pressed so close. 

“Here Bilbo, like this,” Thorin took the sword and stepped away toward Dis, demonstrating proper form as he moved the blade effortlessly through the air. Dis met him blow for blow, their blades clashing noisily as their sparring became more and more competitive. Thorin's smile grew as Dis began backing up, yielding to his attacks. He chuckled, provoking her ire, and her gaze hardened as she doubled her efforts. Thorin's eyes widened as he was suddenly the one stepping back from his little sister's deadly blows.

Bilbo was happy to watch, the bunch and stretch of Thorin's arms and shoulders distracting the hobbit from any sort of focus on form or handling. Dis knocked the sword from Thorin's hands and it clattered noisily to the ground. Thorin raised his hands in defeat, leveling Dis with an amused grin. Dis smiled widely and lowered her blade.

“If you wanted to take over lessons, you had but to ask,” Thorin quipped as he took up the sword then made his way back to Bilbo. “Here, give it a go,” Thorin handed the sword back, Bilbo instantly scrambling not to drop it to the ground. 

“Thorin, I'm not made for this,” the hobbit said for the millionth time. “The blade is too heavy, it feels awkward in my hands.”  
Thorin smiled. “We will work on that,” he said reassuringly, resting a hand on Bilbo's shoulder and pressing their foreheads together.

“Uncle! Amad!” Fili's voice pulled the two from their embrace, and they turned quickly at the urgency in his tone.  
“Dwalin!” Bilbo exclaimed as he followed Dis and Thorin across the room.  
“What happened?” Thorin demanded.  
“Boru and Crenig. They got away. Kili and Nori took Burg, probably to the prison,” Dwalin replied.  
“Here, sit him down,” Dis ordered Ori and Fili as she pulled a chair up behind the guard. They gingerly lowered Dwalin into the chair and he immediately slumped backwards in relief. 

“Fili, Dis, go the guard tower. Order every available guard to do a full search of the mountain. I give you both the authority to do what is necessary. If anyone tries to give you any shit, tell them they will face my wrath,” Thorin commanded his sister and heir.  
“We will see to it, nadad. Take care of Dwalin,” Dis responded, and she and Fili quickly took their leave.

Thorin knelt down to get a better look at his friend. Dwalin was a mess. His nose had been broken, blood covered his face and one of his eyes was starting to swell shut. His lip was split, his face was a morbid rainbow of purple and black, and Thorin knew it would only look worse come morning.  
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Thorin asked his friend softly.  
“M'chest,” Dwalin mumbled through the blood and swelling. “Laid a few hits there 'fore they started in on m'face.”

Thorin nodded. “Broken?”  
“Can't say for sure,” Dwalin tried to shrug but grimaced at the effort, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving room for absolute agony to take over. 

“Where is he?!” Oin's familiar voice demanded as the healer entered. His feet quickened and his eyes widened as he took in the state of the guard. “What in Mahal's name..!”

Oin lowered himself to meet Dwalin's eye, giving the guard a sympathetic look.  
“Well, they roughed you up good, didn't they?” Oin said gruffly as he inspected the guard's wounds. “Gonna have ta set it, lad,” the healer warned, gesturing at Dwalin's nose.

“Jus' get it over with,” Dwalin huffed out. Ori took the guard's hand in both of his own, squeezing it reassuringly.  
“Alright then. Brace yourself.” Oin placed his thumbs at either side of the break, and Dwalin pinched his eyes shut in preparation. He snapped the guard's nose back in place with a sickening wet pop. Dwalin grit his teeth and let out a muffled roar of pain, squeezing Ori's hands tightly. 

“Well that's the worst over,” Oin reassured him as he knelt to pull a salve from his bag. “Here. I'll let you do this part. He's less likely to lash out and hit you than me,” he handed the jar to Ori. “Put it over the bruises. I'll see about getting a slab of meat from Bombur to put over it lest it swell up worse.” Oin lifted his bag onto his shoulder and left.

“I need to find Kili and Nori and deal with Burg. Ori, can you manage to get him home?” Thorin asked the scribe.  
Ori nodded, taking Dwalin's arm and helping him to his feet. “I'll get him home. I'm sure those ass holes aren't likely to confront us again. And if they do, they'll regret it,” Ori stated fiercely as he pulled Dwalin's arm around his shoulders. 

Dwalin gave Ori a warm look as the scribe began helping him to the door.  
“Do you think they'll be alright?” Bilbo asked Thorin tentatively as they watched the two leave.  
“I'm sure they will be. Come. We need to find Burg.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all! Kudos and comments greatly appreciated!!!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm here! Don't worry, I have not dropped this fic! So sorry for the wait, I really can't promise it will get any faster, but I am not going to abandon this fic. Fair warning, this chapter is all cheesy fluff. I hope you don't mind.

Dwalin sat slumped in a chair, barely holding on to consciousness as Ori fixed his bed. The scribe had helped him home with little trouble, nearly carrying Dwalin halfway around the mountain. The bleeding had stopped, but the guard's face throbbed in agony, his body a mess of pain as he sat uncomfortably in the chair. 

“Alright, let's get you to the bed,” Ori's voice jolted the guard from his half sleeping state. He placed his hands on the armrests and tried to push himself up with a pained groan.

“Wait wait, let me help you,” Ori admonished as he leaned down to wrap an arm around Dwalin. He pulled the dwarf to standing, and the guard immediately tried to right himself and pull his weight from Ori. He stumbled and almost fell, a surprisingly strong arm catching him and wrapping around his back before he truly lost his balance.

“Dwalin, don't you dare. You are going to hurt yourself further if you don't let me help you,” Ori scolded.  
“I don want you to hurt yerself tryin ta limp me around,” Dwalin responded, still unable to speak clearly around the swelling in his face.  
“I am not going to hurt myself, you stubborn fool.” Ori leveled the guard with a scowl. 

Dwalin tried again to take his weight off of the scribe, and again he stumbled, this time falling into the wall next to him. He yelled in pain as his ribs hit the unforgiving stone, and Ori had had enough. He marched up to the guard and wrapped his arm back around Dwalin and squatted down. Dwalin gasped in surprise as Ori swept him clean off his feet and hauled him across the room. He pushed the bedroom door open with a foot and carried the guard in.

“There,” Ori said as he deposited Dwalin gently onto the bed. “Now let's get you out of those bloody clothes.” 

Dwalin could only stare awestruck as Ori removed his boots. His admiration was plain as the scribe finished and began working at the fastenings on the sides of his leather tunic.  
“You amaze me,” Dwalin whispered.  
Ori glanced up at him with an amused grin as he pulled the tunic from the guard's chest. “And you underestimate me,” he quipped. “We'll need to lift your arms so I can get this off of you,” he tugged at Dwalin's undershirt as he sat on the bed next to him. “Unless you'd like me to just rip it off. I doubt you will be wearing it again.”  
Dwalin raised an eyebrow at the feisty little scribe. “Alright. Rip it. It will be of no use to me in the state it's in anyway.”

Ori grabbed the collar of the shirt and tore it down the middle. He smoothed his hands over Dwalin's shoulders, sliding the shirt down thick strong arms. He found himself staring for a moment, flinching at the angry bruises blooming along Dwalin's rib cage. “I'll go get the salve,” he said as he stood from the bed and left the room. He returned within moments, jar in hand and several extra pillows tucked under his arm. 

“Here. Let's prop you up a bit better,” the scribe said as he set the salve near Dwalin knee. He tucked the pillows behind the guard's back, and Dwalin sighed in relief as the extra cushioning took some of the strain from his bruised body. His eyes flew open as Ori settled himself on his lap, straddling the guard with knees braced at Dwalin's hips. 

“Now hold still. This will probably not be the most enjoyable,” Ori warned as he grabbed up the jar.  
Dwalin's face tried to lift in a feral grin, but resulted in more of a grimace as he disturbed his bruising. “I promise I won't complain.” He brought his hands around and placed them at Ori's waist, squeezing lightly.  
Ori grinned.

Dwalin took a sharp inhale and squeezed Ori's sides as the scribe began smoothing salve around his swollen eye.  
“I'm sorry!” Ori's voice was pained as he waited for the sting to subside.  
“'S alright. There's nothin for it. Jus' get it over with,” Dwalin grunted. He flinched as Ori raised his hand to try again, but the scribe's touch was more gentle this time, and he found the sting was less intense. 

Ori tended to Dwalin's wounds carefully, cleaning and smoothing salve over every bruise and cut lovingly. It took forever, as Ori had refused to rush the process, worried he would hurt Dwalin again if he hurried. He had just finished covering the guard's face and shifted back to start on his ribs when he was startled again by a sharp intake of breath and hands tightening on his hips. 

“I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?” Ori asked worriedly.  
“No. No ya didn',” Dwalin answered softly.  
“Oh,” Ori chuckled a bit and blushed prettily at the guard's attempted grin. “Well I'd do it again, but I believe you need rest, and that would lead to activities that would not be conducive to sleep.”  
“'S not true. I would sleep like a babe after such activities,” Dwalin answered cheekily as Ori finished smoothing salve over his chest.

Ori leaned in and planted a soft and careful kiss on the guard's forehead. “Not now. You need rest.” He got up and shot Dwalin a soft smile as he stopped in the doorway. “You sleep. I'll be in to check on you in a while.”

Dwalin smiled inwardly as Ori left the room. Whatever he had done to deserve such a strong and loving One, he was glad for it. Ori was perfect.

* * * * *

Bilbo wandered slowly toward the Dining Hall, his host of guards ever at his back. Thorin had stayed in the prison, waiting for Burg to regain consciousness, but Bilbo could not stay in one place. He was very uneasy, and instead of waiting with Thorin, he opted to see if he could find Bombur, and hopefully, a nerve settling snack. There was just far too much going on all at once. The tension and fear had his stomach in knots, and the thought that Bombur probably felt the same had Bilbo seeking out his company. He looked around as he entered the Dining Hall, and was pleased that Bombur was still there. 

The round dwarf was trying to push a cart of dirty dishes out of the room through a large doorway to the side, though he carried a few stray pots in his hands. Bilbo rushed to catch him before he made it out, the sound of booted dwarven guards echoing behind him strangely. 

“Bombur? Would you like some help?” Bilbo called out as he got closer.  
Bombur looked up at the sound of Bilbo's voice, then dropped his head sadly.  
“Master Baggins, I did not expect you would care for my company after the attempted poisoning,” Bombur lamented.

“Nonsense. None of that was your fault, and I know it was not your doing. Let me help,” Bilbo said taking a few pans from Bombur's hands so the dwarf could better maneuver the cart. 

Bombur didn't argue, and Bilbo took it as a small victory as he followed the dwarf down a short corridor. The clang of pots, pans, and other cookware echoed against the stone as the cart jostled along. It was a short distance through the corridor before they made it to a large doorway. They made their way through, and it took no time for Bilbo to realize they had obviously reached the kitchens. He was assaulted with the mouthwatering aromas of drying herbs and slow roasting meats before he could even take in his surroundings. 

Bilbo's mouth was watering and his jaw dropped as he looked around. The room was filled with rows and rows of counter tops and stoves, with plenty of room for several dwarves to work side by side or even back to back at each center. Above each row was a series of pipes and solid bars bearing drying herbs and hanging utensils. There were dwarves at nearly every station, preparing dinner.

“Wow,” Bilbo finally managed to squeak out. “This- this is quite impressive.”  
Bombur smiled as he led the hobbit to the left of the doorway. The wall there was lined with sinks full of steaming soapy water, and manned by a long line of dwarves all scrubbing and rinsing. 

Bombur left the cart with the dishwashers, and turned to Bilbo as he worked his way toward an empty sink where he could wash his hands. “Nerves are impossible to handle on an empty stomach. I was about to bake myself something sweet. Would you care to join me?”

Bilbo smiled warmly at the dwarf. “My dear Bombur, I thought you would never ask. What did you have in mind?”  
“I thought I would bake some of those sweet rolls I often serve for breakfast,” the dwarf answered as he wiped his hands on a towel hanging from his belt.  
Bilbo closed his eyes. “Mmmm, yes that sounds lovely. May I make a few suggestions?”  
“Absolutely! I would love to have your input.”

The pair made their way over to an empty oven and prepared to get started.  
“Now, your recipe is a great base for what I have in mind. Do you mind putting them together as you usually do, then I will make a few alterations after?”  
“Of course! Here, come help me gather the ingredients from the pantry,” Bombur answered, gesturing for Bilbo to follow him to a door at the back of the room. 

The pantry was vast, shelves lining each wall all the way to the ceiling, and filled with every food a hobbit could want. Bilbo stood in awe as Bombur gathered the flour and sugar and such from a shelf at the back. 

“Is there anything additional we should grab while we're back here?” Bombur asked the hobbit.  
Bilbo shook himself. “Oh. Oh, um, do you have any cinnamon?”  
“Cinnamon?”  
“Yes, little brown sticks. You grind them up and... season things with them.”  
Bombur nodded. “Never thought to grind them up. We just recently acquired some in trade, and not many of us have worked with it much. Only put the sticks in teas and things, it gives a good kick to a cup of hot cider.”  
“Oh yes, I would quite agree. Though if you grind it up into a powder, it is good for other things as well.”  
“Alright then. Grab what you'll need. We keep it over there,” Bombur gestured to a shelf in the corner.  
“I will also need butter,” Bilbo added as he grabbed the cinnamon from the shelf.  
“I've got it here,” Bombur answered, and the two left the pantry with arms piled full. 

They unloaded their finds on the counter, and Bombur pulled a large bowl from a lower cabinet and immediately set to work. Bilbo stood by quietly watching until the ingredients for the rolls were mixed. 

“Now, if you would allow me?” Bilbo asked. Bombur nodded excitedly and stepped aside. Bilbo threw a handful of flour down onto the counter top and rolled the dough out on the surface. Bombur watched carefully as the hobbit prepared the dough. 

“Now for the filling,” Bilbo said as he rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the sticks of cinnamon. “I will need something to grind it with. A mortar and pestle?”

Bombur held up a finger and looked around. He ducked down and began digging through cabinets, and finally withdrew exactly what he was looking for.

“Ah! Perfect, thank you,” Bilbo took the stone mortar from the dwarf and began breaking up the cinnamon sticks into a fine powder. “Now, we mix it with the butter and a bit of sugar, and spread it on our dough.”

Bombur nodded, eying the dark powder suspiciously.  
“Trust me, it will be delicious,” Bilbo responded to the dwarves hesitancy, and Bombur quickly abandoned his wary look. He continued to watch as Bilbo spread the filling and rolled the dough into a log.

“And now, we cut it,” Bilbo explained. “I'll need a long knife.”  
Bombur pulled open a drawer and pulled out a knife, handing it to the hobbit. Bilbo sliced the dough and turned to Bombur with a satisfied look on his face.  
“Now we put them in a pan, and cover them so they can rise.”  
“They smell delicious already,” Bombur said as he pulled out a baking dish. “I can't wait to see how they smell as they are baking.”  
“Oh, they are heavenly,” Bilbo responded with a smile. 

Soon the rolls were covered and Bilbo and Bombur sat on stools waiting for them to rise.

“So, Thorin tells me Kari makes the best potatoes in all of Erebor,” Bilbo brought up nonchalantly.  
“Oh. Yes, they are exquisite,” Bombur said with a blush. “She is one of the best chefs in the guild. Everything she makes is divine. Eggs, meats, even her steamed vegetables are beyond compare,” Bombur answered, losing himself in the thought of delicious food and fair company.

Bilbo smiled wryly. “And, Kari herself seems kind and warm. She has a welcoming stance, and her smile seems sincere.”  
Bombur nodded. “She's an angel. Absolutely lovely.” 

Bombur's eyes widened suddenly as he realized just how much he was gushing.  
“And have you spoken to her?”  
Bombur shrugged. “A handful of times.”  
“Why don't you approach her, tell her of your regard for her?”

Bombur shook his head vigorously. “Oh no, I couldn't! A beautiful dam like that, she would not be interested in someone like me.”  
“Oh yes, a kind, gracious, handsome dwarf whose cooking would put a hobbit to shame? I could see why she wouldn't be interested,” Bilbo cocked an eyebrow at the dwarf.  
Bombur shook his head again. “I wouldn't know what to say.”

“Offer her one of these rolls. Take one to her while they're hot. She won't be able to say no to that,” Bilbo suggested.  
“Alright. I'll offer her a roll. But if she laughs at me, I'm blaming you,” Bombur admonished.  
“That's fine with me. You can also blame it on me if she takes to you and the two of you marry,” Bilbo pointed a finger at Bombur, leveling him with an amused look. “But for now, let's get these in the oven.”

* * * * *

The rolls were nearly done, and Bombur had just finished giving Bilbo a more thorough tour of the kitchens and pantry. They had shared a snack of bread and cheese while they waited, and Bilbo was happy to find the dwarf was great company. They enjoyed the time they had together, and neither brought up the disaster of the afternoon, instead passing the time swapping recipes. 

When finally the rolls had finished, Bilbo and Bombur could barely contain themselves. The allure of the tempting smell of fresh baked sweets was almost too much. The only thing that stopped them was the thought of scorching their mouths on the hot bread. After a few minutes, they could no longer hold back, and dished out a couple of the hot treats to enjoy. 

“Bilbo, these are amazing!” Bombur groaned as he hefted another steaming bite into his mouth.  
“Put butter on the top. Makes it even better,” Bilbo answered around his own mouthful.  
“Mmmm.... If I'm going to offer any of these to Kari, I best do so now lest I eat them all myself,” Bombur stated as he stood from his chair. 

“I best be off anyway. I've been gone quite a long time. Thorin may be worried,” Bilbo stood and smiled at the dwarf. “Until next time, then?”

Bombur grabbed the hobbit and pulled their foreheads together gently. “Until next time, my friend. And you are always welcome in my kitchen.”

* * * * *

Bilbo smiled as he headed back to the royal chambers, hopeful he would find Thorin there. He was glad he had made another friend, and he was even more thrilled when he spotted Thorin walking towards him down the hall.

“Thorin!” Bilbo's feet moved quicker in his eagerness to be closer to the king. “Here, you have to try this,” Bilbo offered the last bite of the roll he had been eating. 

Thorin opened his mouth compliantly, allowing the hobbit to push the morsel past his lips. Thorin leaned forward, pulling the tip of Bilbo's finger into his mouth and sucked the remaining butter from it before pulling back and closing his eyes as the decadent flavor of sugar and cinnamon flooded his mouth. 

“What is that?” Thorin asked around his mouthful.  
“Cinnamon. Do you like it?”  
“It's amazing.”  
Bilbo gave Thorin a pleased smile as the dwarf leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Bilbo blushed and glanced at their guards, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious. Thorin's open affection would take some getting used to. Not that Bilbo was complaining. The reminder that they now belonged to each other had Bilbo's heart fluttering and his palms sweating pleasantly. 

Bilbo shook his head and attempted to quell his love sick smile as he and Thorin made their way back to their rooms. “Any luck with Burg?” he asked as his hand was taken up into the warmth of Thorin's grasp.  
“No. I will have to try again most likely tomorrow. Ori beat him into oblivion. He won't be waking for several hours.”  
Bilbo nodded. “Well, I can't say I feel bad for him. He never should have put his hands on Dwalin.” Bilbo grinned at the thought of his mild mannered friend managing to take down a lieutenant and hold his own. “May I come with you?”

Thorin cringed a little. “Honestly, on one hand, I would rather you not come anywhere near that dwarf. On the other, I do not wish to be parted from you if it can be helped. Either way, the choice is yours.” 

Bilbo thought for a moment. “I do not wish to be parted from you either. I think I will come with you.”  
“Very well. For now, I have a message to send. After that, I am all yours. We can do whatever you wish.”  
Bilbo blushed at the thoughts that immediately sprung to mind, each a bit more explicit than the last. “Oh. Erm... well, spending time with you is sufficient. Is there anything in particular you had in mind?”

Thorin smiled and nodded. “I have a few ideas.” He continued to grin slyly as they stopped outside the royal chambers. “Wait here for me. I will return shortly, and we can have dinner before we go.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes at the dwarf. “Go where?”  
Thorin's smile grew. “You'll see.” With that, he left Bilbo standing outside the royal chambers, hands on his hips and surrounded by his three guards. Thorin chuckled as he turned the corner. He was eager to spend time with Bilbo properly, but he got a creeping feeling of guilt as he continued on. He couldn't help his carefree mindset, having finally begun the bond he had been longing for the last months. But his kingdom was still in turmoil. His life in danger. His friends and family at risk..... 

Thorin's thoughts grew darker as he walked. He was so involved in his worry that he didn't hear the approaching voices until he nearly ran right in to Dis and Nori.

“Thorin? Are you alright? Did you talk to Burg?” Dis asked her brother eagerly.  
“I'm fine. Just..... distracted. Burg is still out cold. There will be no getting anything out of him before tomorrow at least.”  
Nori grinned proudly. “That's my Ori. Gave him the beat down of a lifetime, did he?”  
“It would seem so,” Thorin answered in amusement. Then he frowned. “What are you two doing running around the kingdom together?”  
“You told me not to go anywhere alone, and Nori here offered to escort me. I have duties to attend to, you know.”

Thorin nodded. “I do know. Any sign of Boru and Crenig?”  
“None. It's like they disappeared. Vanished. There is no trace of them anywhere,” Dis lamented.  
Thorin's frown hardened. “How could two dwarves melt into thin air?”  
“I have a few ideas, which I was looking into before the Lady Dis here showed up and offered her assistance in return for my protection,” Nori answered.  
Thorin sighed in annoyance. “I'm sure.”  
“And where were you off to?” Dis asked suspiciously.  
“Need to send a raven. I intended to spend my evening with Bilbo, though I feel as though there is much work I should be tending to instead.”

Dis put her hands on her hips, leveling Thorin with a hard look. “Don't you dare. The kingdom will still be here tomorrow, and we can work things out then. There is not much more to be done without information from Burg. Go. Spend some time with Bilbo. I have a feeling there will be much less of it after today.”  
Thorin nodded. “You're probably right.” He glanced at the guards at his back before furrowing his brow at Dis. “Would you like more protection?”

Nori scowled pointedly at the king. “I am all the protection your sister needs I assure you.”  
“I meant no offense,” Thorin said honestly. “I simply worry for my namadith. I am sure you can understand.”  
Nori nodded. “Don't worry,” Nori took a step closer to Dis, giving her a warm smile. “I won't let anything bad happen to her.”

Thorin frowned all the harder. “I'm sure.” He harrumphed as Dis giggled and laid a kiss to his brow. “Go. Hurry back to your hobbit. He has waited long enough for you,” Dis teased as she and Nori continued on down the hall.

Thorin rubbed at his forehead as he hurried on. He knew he could not mistake the body language between his sister and the spy. But maybe that was a worry for another day. Dis was a grown woman, and Thorin knew she could hold her own. Not to mention, Nori would die before he let any harm befall her. 

* * * * *

Bilbo waited anxiously in the sitting room. He was eager to spend his evening with Thorin and see what the king had planned. They had eaten their dinner in near silence, before Thorin again excused himself, promising to return shortly, and now here Bilbo sat. He tapped his feet idly, hands worrying the hem of his waistcoat until finally, he jumped up at the sound of the door opening. 

Thorin grinned as Bilbo approached him, and held out a light green jacket. Bilbo took it and gave the king an uncertain frown.  
“What do I need this for?” he asked skeptically.  
“I thought we might enjoy a stroll in the moonlight,” Thorin answered.  
Bilbo beamed as he excitedly pulled on the jacket and looked up at Thorin's amused face. “Lead the way,” Bilbo urged. He grabbed Thorin's hand and the two walked out into the hall. 

Perhaps it would be a bit odd, having so many guards flanking them as they attempted a romantic moonlit stroll, but Bilbo was too excited to care. It had been so many months since he had been outside, and the thought was making him giddy. He nearly skipped at Thorin's side, the king shooting him amused sidelong glances all the while, finding joy in Bilbo's bounciness. 

They finally reached the front gates, and Thorin led Bilbo up a long flight of stairs. When they reached the top, Thorin paused and set a hand on the door that barred their way.  
“Ready?” he asked teasingly.  
“Thorin, please, yes I'm ready!” Bilbo nearly whined.  
Thorin chuckled and pushed the door open.

Fresh cool spring air swept over Bilbo and he nearly ran out into the open with the thrill of it. He moved quickly to a nearby railing and leaned out to take in the view as Thorin chuckled and came to stand beside him.

“If I knew it would bring you such joy, I would've brought you here sooner,” Thorin said softly.  
“I missed this. The fresh air. The open sky. Hobbits were not meant to be confined,” Bilbo said casually.

Thorin grimaced. He had been afraid of this since the very beginning. No. Hobbits were not made to be confined to halls of stone beneath the ground. He had known it. And it brought him more pain to think of now than it had in the beginning. 

Bilbo sighed as he took in the view. They stood high above the ground, on a wall where the guards could keep watch over the gates of the kingdom. The moon was nearly full, and it lit up the surrounding area with a brilliant glow. It glistened off a lake in the distance, and cast eerie shadows around thickets of trees. 

The grounds closer to the mountain were bare of tall plants. Instead, there were fields of grass and wildflowers dancing idly in the soft breeze. The air was sweet and smelled of the promise of rain, the sky dotted in infinite stars twinkling and shining in the velvet night sky. 

“I could stand here forever,” Bilbo breathed.  
Thorin smiled. “I hope you will.”  
Bilbo turned to face the dwarf and didn't miss the sorrow in the king's eyes. “What's wrong, Thorin?”  
The king sighed. “You are right. Hobbits are not meant to live in mountains.”  
Bilbo's face softened. “Then it is a good thing I am no respectable hobbit.”  
Thorin gave him a questioning look. 

Bilbo took a few steps closer and settled into the king's side before turning and wriggling his way between the dwarf and the rail. He wrapped his arms around Thorin's neck and gave him a meaningful look.

“Thorin, I am not going anywhere. I would be happy to stay here with you. I feel more at home here than I ever did in the Shire.”  
Thorin's smile was blinding as he leaned in and took Bilbo in a fierce kiss. 

Bilbo pulled back and returned Thorin's besotted smile, then the dwarf's face quickly fell into a look of concern.  
“And, you would stay, even though being with me will make you a target for my enemies?” Thorin asked warily.  
“Yes. I would stay despite any of that.” Bilbo kissed Thorin again before turning to take in more of the view. He grinned to himself as warm arms pulled him tight into Thorin's chest and the king placed a kiss to his temple. He would stay right here forever no matter the risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.... yea. Lots of fluff. Cheesy corny fluff. Please comment! I love your encouragement and enthusiasm!!!  
> Until next time!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so, it's been a while. I am soooo sorry!!! Life is absolute chaos at present. I would love to promise that I will be able to update more frequently from here on out, but I can't. I can promise however, that I will not drop this fic. It must be finished!!!  
> Please enjoy, and be patient with me. I'm still here.

Bombur smiled to himself as he prepared breakfast. His night with Kari had not gone as he would have dreamed it would, but it also went better than he had actually expected. He mulled over the nights events as he finished mixing the dough.

Kari was surprised to see him, to say the very least. She opened the door with wide eyes, donning an apron over her clothes and flour smudged adorably on her face. Her chocolate waves were falling from their braids, frizzing a bit from the heat of her kitchen. Bombur smiled and stammered. She looked gorgeous this way, surprised and pleased and covered in flour. She welcomed him in and graciously led him to the kitchen.

“I hope you don't mind, I have to finish kneading this,” she said apologetically. “It won't take me but a minute. Please, have a seat Master Bombur.”

Bombur sat down and fidgeted with his beard, watching as the dwarrowdam folded and pushed the bread out across her counter. It truly did not take more than a minute before she had set it aside to rise. She wiped her hands on her apron and came to sit at the table across from Bombur.

“So, Master Bombur, what brings you here?” Kari asked curiously.  
“Oh, well, I brought you this.” He handed her the carefully wrapped cinnamon roll. She took it in cautious hands, her confusion evident on her face.  
“I- I thought you might like it,” Bombur's face reddened under her uncertain gaze as she unwrapped the treat. 

Mercifully, the roll was still warm, and she pulled a small piece off and popped it into her mouth.  
“Durin's beard. This is wonderful! What is this?” Kari's face had lifted into a pleased grin that left Bombur breathless.  
“Cinnamon. Bilbo showed me how to prepare it.”  
“I love it. Will you teach me?”

Bombur blushed all the more, his face glowing in excitement. “Absolutely. I would love to teach you.”  
Kari beamed. “Are you free tomorrow evening?”  
“Yes. Meet me in the kitchens.”

Bombur smiled at the memory. A date was more than he had actually expected. He covered the pan and licked some sugar from his fingers, deciding to sit for a moment while his rolls rose.  
Cinnamon rolls.  
He had decided he would sell them every morning in the Great Hall.  
He had decided each morning he would gift one to Kari.  
And send two up to Bilbo.

* * * * *

It was very early when Thorin awoke. The sun had yet to rise, and the soft promise of morning was barely visible through the skylight. Thorin yawned and pulled the hobbit laying against him closer. Bilbo hummed contentedly and stretched. 

“Morning,” Thorin rumbled.  
“Mmmmm,” Bilbo replied as he relaxed back into Thorin.  
“We should probably ready for the day. There is much to be done.”  
“Mm-mm. Nope. Not getting up,” Bilbo argued as he pulled the blanket up over his head.  
“Well, stay here then, but a king must be present to run his kingdom,” Thorin chuckled as he started to pull away. Bilbo caught the king's arm and pulled it back around his middle.  
“Five more minutes.”  
Thorin grinned. “Very well. Five more minutes.” He pulled Bilbo close and nuzzled the hobbit's hair. 

Bilbo grinned happily as he recounted the last few days. He never would have imagined that he and Thorin would have gotten so close so quickly. He should have supposed it would happen that way, after all, they had shared a bed since nearly the beginning, and it had always felt so natural to lay against the dwarf. Bilbo hummed contentedly as Thorin leaned down and pressed a bearded kiss to the side of his neck.

“We should really get up,” Thorin whispered against the hobbit's skin.  
Bilbo sighed. “Alright.” He sat up as the dwarf rolled from the bed and hopped down to make his way to the wardrobe to pick out his clothes. 

Bilbo bathed quickly, aware the day was to be quite full, what with questioning that foul dwarf and with Bolorin's final sentencing that evening... he was certainly not looking forward to any of it. He pulled on his fresh clothes and joined Thorin before the fire.

“How was your bath?” Thorin asked as Bilbo came to plant a light kiss to his cheek.  
“Lovely! What's that I smell?” the hobbit asked excitedly.  
“Bombur brought them. They're hot sweet rolls. He said to tell you thank you, and that it worked, and that you'd know what it means?”  
“Cinnamon rolls,” Bilbo said with a gentle smile. “Yes. I do know what it means.”

* * * * *

Breakfast was a quiet affair, as Bilbo and Thorin mentally prepared for their meeting with Balin and a few of their other friends to go over suspects for the attempted poisoning days before.

Bilbo wouldn't admit it, but he was more nervous about their questioning of Burg. The dwarf would hopefully be awake enough to interrogate, and although he had insisted on going with Thorin, he was quite uneasy about the whole thing. He was very distracted as he followed Thorin to the council room, and wasn't even aware they had arrived until the king was offering him a seat. 

Bilbo looked around the table, happy to see the group that had gathered. Ori sat to his right, A battered and sore looking Dwalin next to him, and Balin took up the seat on Dwalin's other side. To Thorin's left sat Dis, and Fili and Kili next to her. Bombur was across from Bilbo, Bifur and Gloin to his left and Dori and Nori to his right. 

Thorin looked to his advisor, his expression grave. “Is everything ready for Bolorin's final sentencing this evening?”  
Balin nodded. “Yes, My King.”  
“Then let's begin,” Thorin nodded for the white haired dwarf to start.

“Alright,” Balin began, “let's get to it. Ori lad, are you ready?” he looked to the scribe, who nodded, sitting poised with a quill over parchment at the ready.  
“There are several things we need to discuss today. First, we need to hear what everyone has found out regarding the attempted poisoning of King Thorin and Master Baggins, and then I need every piece of information on the whereabouts of Crenig and Boru. Does anyone have any leads?”

“Perhaps,” Nori broke the silence, scanning the room and letting his eyes linger on the princess. “I was following Crenig, before he was involved with the attack on our good captain. He had stopped by the apartments of a certain dam. It was nearly an hour after he went in, that another dwarf exited the place, but I didn't think anything of it. He seemed skittish, glancing over his shoulder as he left.” 

He stared idly at his hands, letting his words hang in air for a few moments. 

“I don't know Crenig personally, but he doesn't seem the type to share a dam with another. It is possible there could have been certain arrangements made for the other dwarf to spike our good friend Bombur's ale, or maybe they simply got caught up talking before he left.”  
Nori narrowed his eyes, lifting his gaze to meet Thorin's.  
“But something tells me, nothing Crenig does is innocent.”

Thorin nodded gravely. “Could you identify the other dwarf?”  
“Of course. See him at the pub sometimes, always quiet and keeps to himself,” Nori responded.  
“Find him. I want him brought in,” Thorin demanded.

Nori stood and gave Thorin a light bow of his head, before he swept silently from the room. 

“Anyone else?” Balin asked the room. There was silence in response, and so he turned to Bombur. “I assume it was the entirety of your stores that were contaminated?”  
Bombur nodded. “My open barrel was poisoned. I didn't crack it open until I got it to the kitchens before lunch, so I assume it was done there. How they got to it without my notice is beyond me, but I am certain it was done in the kitchens, before I even brought it out.”

“And did anyone else drink from that barrel?” Bilbo's voice pulled the attention of the room as he looked at Bombur worriedly. 

“No. No, I had brought it down specially for the two of you. I knew you had begun courtship, and I wanted to congratulate you.”

“How did our culprit know you were going to be serving that ale to us?” Bilbo asked.

Bombur shrugged. “The whole kingdom knew of your courtship. The mountain was abuzz with it all through the morning. I'm sure he knew of my friendship with Thorin, and just assumed.” 

All present jumped as the door slammed open, an eager looking Oin letting himself into the room. “Your Highness, Burg is awake.”

* * * * *

Thorin was silent as he strode determinedly down to the dungeons, his eyes blazing as he thought about the dwarf he would soon be dealing with. The fresh memory of Dwalin's face, swollen and bruised brought the fire of rage flickering to life in Thorin's chest like an angry dragon. His muscles tensed and he moved faster, barely noticing Bilbo struggling to keep pace with him. 

When he finally reached the dungeons, he stopped outside the door, taking a steadying breath and was startled when he suddenly realized Bilbo was next to him. He had nearly forgotten the hobbit had come with him. 

“Are you sure you want to be here?” Thorin asked the hobbit uneasily.  
Bilbo straightened his waistcoat, putting on a determined face. “Of course.”

Thorin sighed, casting an uneasy glance at Gloin and the two guards flanking him, who took up watch outside the door as Thorin and Bilbo walked in. They passed the first few cells, stopping at the third one to the left as Thorin's anger flared again. He slid the cell door open with a resounding bang and stood over the figure before him, arms crossed over his chest and murder in his eyes. 

Burg knelt on the floor with his hands bound behind his back. Bilbo was pleased to see that the lieutenant looked worse off than Dwalin, and he would be sure to tell Ori when he saw him next. 

Thorin sneered at the lieutenant, disgust clear in his features. “Look who's awake. Glad you survived. Now I'm going to ask you this once, and I don't want you to give me any grief. Where are Crenig and Boru?”

Burg shot him a nasty look and then turned away. “Gone,” he spat.

Thorin's temper flared. He dropped his hands to his sides, clenching them into fists. “Tell me where they went!”

“Away from here,” Burg deflected, refusing to give a straight answer.

Thorin rubbed at his temples in agitation, fury rolling off him in waves. “And how would they get away from here without being seen by any of my guards?” he demanded, his voice growing dangerous. 

Burg smirked. “Perhaps your guards are blind. Mahal knows their captain is all but useless at present.”

Thorin snapped. He grabbed the lieutenant by the front of his tunic, yanking him up from the floor and pulling him close to snarl in his face. “You will be lucky if I let you live! I should give you to Ori and let him finish the job!”

The two glared at each other, and Thorin was satisfied to note that Burg looked slightly shaken as he attempted to hold his air of defiance.  
“Thorin,” Bilbo's voice was timid and shaky as he addressed the enraged king. 

Thorin took a slow breath and lowered the lieutenant, coming back to himself a bit. He shook his head and dropped the dwarf to the floor, letting his breathing slow and dropping his shoulders. He unclenched his fists, turning to face the hobbit. 

Bilbo stared at his feet, hands shaking as he wrung them nervously in front of his chest.  
“Thorin, may I have a word?” he asked quietly.

Thorin grimaced regretfully and followed the hobbit out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind him. They walked down the hall a few paces, to try to get out of earshot.

Bilbo took a few deep calming breaths before he turned to face Thorin. He clasped his shaking hands behind his back and forced himself to meet the king's eye.  
“What's gotten into you? I know you are angry about what he did to Dwalin, but don't you think you're taking it a bit far?” Bilbo was sure not to sound too pushy, not wanting to become the focus of Thorin's rage.

Thorin closed his eyes, rubbing at the back of his neck as the last of his anger dissipated.  
“Perhaps I'm letting my anger get the best of me,” Thorin answered, looking up at the hobbit. He frowned as he took in the state Bilbo was in, face pale and hands shaking as he fidgeted and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.  
“Bilbo?” Thorin reached for the hobbit, then thought better of it. “Are you alright?”

Bilbo dropped his gaze and swallowed thickly. “I'm fine. Just a little shaken is all.” He met Thorin's eye nervously. “I've never seen you so angry.”

Thorin held out his hand, letting Bilbo close the distance between before wrapping his arms around him in a warm embrace.  
“I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me.”  
Bilbo melted into the dwarf's touch, letting out a relieved sigh as his tensed muscles relaxed.  
“Come,” Thorin said softly, pulling away and taking Bilbo's hand, “let's go back to our rooms for lunch. Then perhaps we should do a bit more training before Bolorin's sentencing. Burg isn't going to be going anywhere, and I daresay he won't give us any more information at present.”

Bilbo smiled and let Thorin lead him back to the room and a much needed hot meal.

* * * * *

Bilbo was not looking forward to their training session. He grew more and more tense as they approached the training grounds, his hands clenching at his sides and lips pursed. He was terrible with a sword, and he couldn't understand why Thorin insisted on him practicing, when it was obvious he would never get any better. He followed the king into the practice ring, letting out a defeated sigh as Thorin went to gather their weapons. 

“I have something for you,” Thorin said as he returned with a wrapped parcel in hand.  
Bilbo frowned, looking from Thorin's face to the package in his hands.  
“It is a gift. I had it made by the elves,” Thorin explained as Bilbo began pulling the leather wrappings from his present. The hobbit gasped as he uncovered a sheathed blade. “It is lighter than a dwarven blade, better suited for your stature. I daresay it should be much easier for you to wield.”

Bilbo ran reverent fingers along the hilt, then took it in hand and carefully pulled it from the scabbard. It was beautiful, curved and shorter than a traditional blade, with vines etched into the flat of it.

Bilbo admired the sword as he turned it in his hands. “Thorin, it's beautiful.”

Thorin beamed as the hobbit rose onto his toes and pressed a kiss to the dwarf's lips. He wrapped his arms around Bilbo's waist and pulled him closer, tilting his head to deepen their kiss. They sprang apart at the pointed clearing of a throat from the doorway.

“I hate to interrupt,” a voice echoed over the room, “I only wished to offer my congratulations.”

“Captain Gilda,” Thorin addressed the dwarrowdam, “I appreciate the sentiment.”

The dam smirked and bowed her head graciously. “I have also heard what happened with Captain Dwalin, and I wanted to tell you I had just fired Boru the day before the attack.”

“Somehow, that does not surprise me,” Thorin responded. 

“I also wanted to tell you, I've taken a particular interest in that dark haired nephew of yours. Kili is very gifted with a bow.”

“Yes. I am quite proud of him.”

“You should be,” Captain Gilda grinned as she gave the king and his hobbit a deep bow, and left them to it.

Thorin smiled down at the hobbit, who stood blushing at his side. “Shall we?” 

The remainder of the afternoon was spent with Thorin teaching Bilbo to wield his new blade. The hobbit was thrilled to find with the lighter weapon, he was able to better keep form and hold his own. 

Thorin was impressed with the progress Bilbo had made. A proper sized blade made all the difference. He was quite pleased with the hobbit's form, and Bilbo even managed to disarm him a few times. It was an encouraged and cheerful hobbit who bounced along next to him on their way back to their rooms.

The mood dropped significantly when a grim faced Balin met them in the hall.  
“You'd best get cleaned up and ready. It's almost time.”

* * * * *

The throne room was full, packed on all sides with curious dwarrow intent on hearing the Captain's final sentencing. A tense and angry Golorin stood at the back near the door, glaring daggers at any who dared come to near.

There was a hush over the crowd as Thorin entered and approached the throne. His face was grim as he stood before his people and looked down at the chained dwarf on the floor before him. The room was silent, all present anticipating the king's command. 

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment, before he gave the former captain a stern look. “It has always stood as a firm guideline, that any dwarf who does harm to another, there should be equal retribution, in the same form. Therefore, Bolorin, son of Gloril, it is with a heavy heart that I give you your final sentence. For the torture of the hobbit, Bilbo of the Shire, you will be branded, you will be whipped, and for the murder of one of Erebor's own young archers, your beard will be publicly shorn and you will spend the remainder of your miserable life in prison.” 

There was a murmur through the crowd, and it seemed every dwarf was on their feet, shouting in agreement or muttering amongst their neighbors. Dwalin and two other guards took a defeated Bolorin back to his cell as Balin struggled to bring the attention back to the king.

When the rumble of chatter died down, Thorin took a few steps towards his people and addressed them all. “It is not with anger that we take the honor of one of our own, but with hope. Hope that death of our own young archer will not be in vain. The punishment of his murderer will signal the dawning of a united Erebor, where we stand together against tyranny, and let no other, be they dwarf, man, or elf, oppress and corrupt our kingdom.”

Golorin fumed as he left the throne room. Curse that joke of a king and all his mislead ideas of justice. He may as well have sentenced Bolorin to death. This was hardly justice. Golorin stormed through the halls, fists clenched as he thought of the best ways to get rid of Thorin. He had tried, oh had he tried. But the Shire rat was obviously determined to thwart him at every turn. And now, his failure was going to cost his brother dearly. He was only glad his family wasn't still alive to witness the dishonor.

It hardly mattered now. What did matter was somehow managing to wrestle control of the kingdom from that worthless whelp. King Thror would be appalled to see what his grandson was doing to the once mighty kingdom. 

Golorin glared menacingly as he noticed the princess heading toward him down the hall. He clenched his fists all the more and growled as he leveled her with his pent anger.

“Your brother is a disgrace to the line of Durin! Your grandfather's biggest mistake was naming him heir!” Golorin snarled as Dis approached.

Dis stopped short, giving the general a dangerous look.  
“You would do well to hold your tongue, snake. Thorin is ten times the king my grandfather was, and if you were smart, you would start packing your bags. You won't be General for much longer, I assure you,” Dis warned. She pushed past, but was stopped by a vice like grip on her arm. She fought as the dwarf pulled her in close and pressed his body against her.

“Perhaps Thror was a bit narrow minded,” Golorin hissed. Dis glared but didn't respond.  
“Perhaps, he should have thought of marrying you off to a powerful dwarf with the potential to rule. Name you the future queen, ruling at the side of someone worthy. Someone with more backbone than your brother.”

“If you mean yourself, you are delusional to think I would ever consider it,” Dis spat. The grip on her wrist tightened and she tried to pull away, but Golorin pulled her more tightly against him.  
“The offer is on the table. You could be queen, Dis.” Golorin leaned forward, closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale against her hair. “Think about it.”  
“I would rather die.”

“Careful what you wish for, Princess. I would hate for any harm to befall you,” Golorin hissed in her ear. Then he froze as a blade appeared at his throat.  
“You'd best unhand her. I would hate to have to bleed you out right here,” Nori's voice growled in warning as he leaned around Golorin's shoulder. 

Dis rolled her eyes and grabbed her skirts, hiking them up so she could land a well deserved kick right to Golorin's groin. Nori let the general go as he went down like a ton of stone. Nori gave him a shove for good measure and hurried to catch up as Dis stormed off down the hall.

“I had everything under control,” Dis admonished, wrapping her arms around herself as Nori fell into step next to her.  
Nori grinned. “I don't doubt it. But you wouldn't expect me to just sit there and let him yank you around, would you?”  
Dis finally let her shoulders relax, letting go of some of the tension and sighed in defeat. “No. No I wouldn't.” 

They walked together in silence for a few more minutes before Dis cleared her throat.  
“Thank you. Much as I am capable of handling myself, I do appreciate you stepping in.”  
Nori chuckled. “You're welcome. And, are you alright?”  
“Yes. Yes I'm- I'm fine.” Her hands still shook slightly, and she felt unsettled at the general's threats, but at least she wasn't hurt.  
“Where is Thorin? You know we should tell him,” Nori suggested.  
Dis let out a sigh. “He'll be furious.”  
“Good. He should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it my lovelies! Your comments, kudos, and patience are more appreciated than you know.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, a new chapter two weeks in a row! I really hope you enjoy these last chapters as the story reaches its end. Hope I don't disappoint! Enjoy!

To say that Thorin was angry would have been the understatement of the century. He radiated pure rage and hatred as he stormed through his mountain halls, intent on finding and arresting General Golorin for daring to threaten his sister. His eyes blazed with fury and his jaw was set in a taut line, his expression murderous. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin's voice was strained as he addressed the hobbit struggling to keep up with his determined stride. “I need you to go back to our rooms.”  
Bilbo looked up at the king with concern. “Thorin?”  
The dwarf stopped, Dwalin and Gloin halting the other three guards to let the king speak with his hobbit. Dwalin gave the group a pointed look, raising an eyebrow at them. His expression was all the more severe with the mosaic of bruising still littering the fierce captains face, and the guards quickly averted their eyes to give the king a moment.

Thorin took a deep breath, dropping his face into one hand and scrubbed at his eyes. He finally met Bilbo's gaze and his furious expression softened into a heartbreaking plea.  
“Please Bilbo. I do not wish for you to be within the same mountain as Golorin, let alone the same room.” He reached down and took one of Bilbo's hands in his own. “There is no telling what he will do.”

Bilbo looked down at their carefully clasped hands and swallowed, nodding briskly. “Very well. I will go back to our rooms and wait for you.” He looked up at Thorin and gave him a firm look. “Be careful.”  
Thorin gave the hobbit a small smile and turned back to his purpose, leading his guards to finally bring the general to justice. 

Bilbo waited for Thorin to turn a corner and leave his sight before he began walking swiftly down the vast halls, eager to get back to the rooms and a hot bath. He frowned to himself, as he noticed what sounded like someone following him. He perked his ear back a bit, and realized as his steps faltered, the ones following him did as well.

Bilbo froze, fear stabbing icily through his veins. The heavy footfalls behind him stopped as well, and he was afraid to turn and face their source. His heart was pounding in his chest as the footsteps slowly approached him.

“You're going to come with me, Shire rat, and you will come quietly,” a low threatening voice murmured, much closer to his ear than he had estimated. Bilbo reached for the sword at his side. He pulled it out and spun to face his attacker, who barely managed to parry his blow.  
“No, I don't think I will, General.”  
The dwarf was clearly shocked at being challenged by one he had assumed would be an easy target. He quickly regained his composure and leered at the hobbit.  
“You cannot hope to contend with me.”  
“No. But I can hope that I will be able to hold you at bay until Thorin returns.”  
“I daresay that would be a false hope, Master Hobbit.” Golorin lunged and was again a bit surprised when Bilbo blocked seamlessly. He glared in Bilbo's face as the hobbit turned a bit and threw his hip into the general's side, causing the dwarf to stumble back a few steps.  
“Perhaps I have underestimated you, halfling. But do not think you could hope to take me on. Your time is very limited.” 

Golorin lunged again and the hall was filled with the echoing clang of blade against blade as Bilbo was pushed to his limits by the skilled general. The hobbit was wearing down, and Golorin knew it. He sneered as Bilbo's panting breaths came out uneven, his form failing and his feet losing their surety as he stumbled from the dwarf's advances. He knew he had won.

“Bilbo!” Dis's voice was a sweet relief as the hobbit fell onto his back, the sudden exclamation pulling Golorin's attention long enough for Bilbo to roll out of the way as Dis and Nori took up his position against the general. 

Golorin's face pinched up in fury as he realized he had run out of time. He grabbed a lit torch from the sconce on the wall and hurled it at Nori, then he turned and ran. Dis leapt to Nori's side, putting out the flame on his pant leg as the general successfully escaped into the mountain. 

“Let's go!” Nori pulled Bilbo to his feet and the three set off the way Golorin had run.

* * * * *

Dis, Nori, and Bilbo pursued the general for what felt like hours, but he had effectively lost them. They ran into an enraged Thorin, who had been searching as well, since Golorin was obviously not in his chambers. They had sent the guards out to search, and of course all had come up empty. 

Thorin sat fuming at the table, once again he had gathered his most trusted friends to the council room. How could he have sent Bilbo wandering the mountain alone? It was his own orders that the hobbit be well guarded at all times. And what had Erebor come to that his future consort couldn't roam his kingdom without his life being threatened?

Thorin slammed a hand on the table, causing half those present to jump. “Where could he have possibly gone?! That is the third dwarf to take off in my kingdom and vanish upon pursuit!”

“Thorin,” Dis put a comforting hand on her brother's, and he gave her a questioning look. “Nori and I believe Golorin had set up a series of secret tunnels throughout the mountain. This allowed them to come and go as they please, and escape your pursuit when necessary. It also leads us to believe he and Crenig and Boru are still in the mountain, or at least, may be again soon.”

Thorin closed his eyes. “Of course.” He shook his head and turned to face her again. “How long have you suspected?”  
“Nori just ran the possibility by me a few days ago. I am not sure how long he had been convinced before then.”

Thorin frowned at the table. Secret tunnels? It was possible that had been how his grandfather had moved slaves in and out without anybody noticing. Perhaps it would be worthwhile to investigate Thror's rooms a bit further. A knock on the door pulled him from his musings. Gloin pulled the door open and leaned into the hall, then pulled back and opened the door further, allowing Nori to drag a struggling dwarf into the room.

Gloin shut the door again as Nori forced the frantic dwarf into a chair.  
“I assume this is our poisoning suspect?” Thorin asked the spy.  
“Yes, Your Highness. This is indeed our suspect.” He turned to the squirming dwarf seated before him. “Why don't you tell the king how you were hired to poison his ale and send he and his future consort to their death?” Nori demanded.  
“Please, Sire! I was forced!”  
“Who do you claim forced your hand?” Thorin asked, certain he already knew the answer.  
“I cannot tell you or he'll have me killed,” the dwarf pleaded.  
Thorin shared a meaningful look with Nori, who nodded.  
“Was it Crenig?” the spy asked the frantic dwarf.  
“No sir.”  
Thorin frowned. “Was it the general?”  
The dwarf paled and his eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Please! I don't want to die! I have seen what they do to any who oppose them! I do not wish to meet my maker just yet!”

“Peace! We will find a way to protect you. Golorin and his closest conspirators are in hiding. They are not safe within these halls and we will find them and bring them to justice. Until then, you will be guarded by some of Erebor's best.” Thorin nodded to Dwalin, who took Gloin and went to assign two of their number to guard duty.

* * * * * 

Bombur sighed as he made his way back to the kitchens. He was glad to know who had managed to taint his ale, but the fact that it was done so easily shook him to the core. How did one take another's life without care? What kind of sick being did it take to deal out death so flippantly? The disturbing thoughts plagued him as he entered his favorite place in the mountain. 

The kitchens were already bustling with the preparation of the final meal of the day, the aromas of Bombur's favorites tickling at his senses. He reached his cooking station and blinked a few times when he noticed Kari sitting on his counter. 

“Hello Bombur,” she greeted him with a soft smile as he came closer.  
“Kari? Shouldn't you be preparing your cart?” Bombur asked her curiously.  
“Yes. But I wanted to speak with you. I know I told you I needed time. Now I want to tell you why. I met my One in the Iron Hills. He was craft wed, and he rejected me. The broken bond scarred me in ways that cannot be cured. I cannot love you as a true One would, and I have to ask, if I were to accept your offer of courtship, and then your One happens to show up, where would that leave me?”

Bombur swallowed, closing his eyes against the old pain in his chest as it was forced to the surface again. It had lessened in intensity, but still hurt all the same.  
“That will not happen,” he answered sadly.  
“How do you know?” Kari asked, trying to meet Bombur's eye.

“I too, was rejected by my One. She... she took one look at me and...” he shook his head sadly. “Kari, you are beautiful and wonderful, and I would be more than lucky to have you. We would not have a fated bond as we long for, but I would love you. I would give you everything you could want, and protect and love you until the end of our days. It is not the love of your lost One, but could it be enough?”

Kari smiled. “Yes. Maybe it could.” She hopped off the stool and kissed Bombur's nose. The big dwarf beamed and pulled something from his pocket.  
“I have carried this around for months, hoping that you would be willing to give me a chance.”  
Bombur dropped to his knee.  
“May I put this bead in your hair?” he asked, presenting a bead of silver to her.

Kari laughed and pulled him to his feet. “Yes! You may court me, Bombur.”

* * * * *

Bifur was not a guard. He had never been a guard, and he did not care to become one. He had joined Erebor's army to be a soldier. A hammer soldier. And a lieutenant shortly after. It was only his regard for his friend, Dwalin, that he was willing to fill in as a guard, protecting the scum who had tried to poison their king. 

Bifur knew the dwarf had been blackmailed. He understood there hadn't been a choice. Or not much of one. But as a soldier, he had been trained to put his life on the line for king and mountain, and any who were not willing to do just that were cowards in his book. 

Bifur stopped as he rounded a corner as the sound of hushed voices met his ears. He couldn't be certain, but he swore he heard Golorin's voice.

“I want you to get him out of there! Tonight!” Golorin sounded furious as he addressed another.  
“Yes sir. I will do my best.” Crenig. That voice had to be Crenig. “And the elf?”  
“Leave her to rot for all I care. Stash her in the tunnel from my rooms. No one will find her there,” Golorin said flippantly. 

Bifur stayed perfectly still around the corner until he heard the slide of stone on stone. So the tunnels Nori had been talking about must be here. And apparently, there was one in Golorin's rooms, as well as an elf that sounded like she needed saving.

Bifur hurried off to find Dwalin. Perhaps they could capture the bastards yet.

* * * * *

Thorin sat on the throne, elbows on his knees and head is his hands. He had sent Bilbo back to the royal chambers with Dis and the boys, all intent on eating. But Thorin wasn't hungry. He was feeling the pressures of ruling, and the helpless overwhelm of having to clean up the mess his mad grandfather had made. How could the last king have possibly been the same grandfather Thorin had grown up with? The dwarf who smiled easily and taught Thorin all he knew of honor and gaining your subjects trust and loyalty through just words and loving actions.

“Your Highness?”  
The soft voice startled Thorin, and he jumped to his feet as he caught sight of Balin walking towards him.  
“Yes?” he asked in confusion as the old dwarf stopped and gave him an assessing look.

“I hate to bother you Thorin, but while we were stripping the gold from your grandfather's rooms, we found this.” Balin held out a folded piece of parchment. Thorin reached out and took it with shaking hands. He wasn't sure he wanted to know any more about his grandfather's madness. He didn't think he could stand the disappointment.

Thorin carefully unfolded the note. It was creased and crumpled as though it had been unfolded and refolded at least hundreds of times, and as it lay open in Thorin's hands he became rapidly aware this was not his grandfather's writing. It was scrolling and distinctly feminine.  
A love letter. He frowned all the harder and began to read.

_“My Dearest Thror,  
I am writing to inform you that I have managed to free myself from my husband. I went to His Majesty, King Dain and informed him of my ill treatment, and he freed me from my marriage contract. Just as you said he would. I am beyond amazed that I will not have to live in fear of my husband any longer. I owe you my life, for I know if your cousin, my king, hadn't freed me, my husband would have eventually killed me._

_I received the bead you sent with your last letter, and yes, I will wear it. You can put it in yourself when I arrive. By the time you get this, I should be withing a days ride from Erebor. I cannot believe we have found a soul mate in one another. I thought for sure Mahal was punishing me by not blessing me with a One, little did I know he had chosen you. The pain of being away from you these past months has been torture. Thank you for sending me enough tonic to make it through. Soon I won't need it, and we can finally be together!_

_I cannot wait to see you again. I will arrive soon.  
With all the love that I possess, I am yours” ___

__Thorin sniffled as he finished reading, and he was glad to find that Balin had left the room._ _

__Judging by this letter, his grandfather had a chance to be happy again. He had been a mess when his grandmother had died, but never showed any interest in remarrying. To find out he had finally found his One, and obviously lost her, was more than Thorin could take. He couldn't imagine losing Bilbo, and he knew first hand what an untended bond could do._ _

Thorin looked at the letter again. It had to have been written years ago. Everything made sense now. Thror's reign of terror had started nearly six years prior. It had started out slow, then he had progressively gotten worse. Sending Thrain to his death. Passing unjust edicts. Coveting other dwarves wives. Backhanded deals and slaves kept for sport. Madness and paranoia. Thror had been fighting an untended bond. 

What became of this dam? Who was she, and why did she not make it to the mountain?

“Thorin?!” Dwalin's eager voice echoed through the throne room as he hurried across the stone.  
Thorin wiped at the tears that had escaped his notice and quickly straightened. “What is it Dwalin? What's happened?”  
“We think we've found some of the secret tunnels. And we may know where to find Thror's last slave,” Dwalin said, a bit breathless from having run so far so quickly.

“Sire! Captain!” a guard yelled, rushing into the room. “Bolorin is missing from his cell!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me! More soon! Tell me what you think. Your comments keep me going!


	27. Chapter 27

The mountain halls were nearly empty at this hour as Thorin hustled through his kingdom. He had sent Dwalin to gather Gloin and Nori and search the prisons for a potential escape tunnel, and now he was going to gather his family so that they might help him locate his grandfather's last slave. He did not slow as he reached the royal chambers, pushing the door open roughly. It grated on his hinges and slammed into the wall with an ominous bang.

“Dis, Bilbo,” he called to them breathlessly, “I need your help.”

Dis and Bilbo had been quick to react, jumping from their seats and coaxing Fili and Kili to their feet. They grabbed their swords, and Kili his bow and quiver of arrows, and they hastily followed Thorin out of the chambers. They were surprised when Dwalin and Ori met them in the hall. The guard and his scribe took up pace with the royals, wearing matching looks of determination.

“I have Bifur helping the others search the prison,” Dwalin began, “but I could not stay there when there is a possibility we may be able to save another of Golorin's victims.”

“I understand,” Thorin's voice was cold and empty as he answered, and Dwalin quirked an eyebrow at him curiously.

The guard captain was beginning to heal from the attack of a few days before. The dark angry purples and blacks were just starting to fade around the edges to a sickly green. Ori knew the guard would look worse for wear for at least a couple weeks, but he knew Dwalin well enough to see the concern masked beneath the mild swelling and bruises. He held his tongue and decided he would mention to Bilbo that Dwalin seemed worried about Thorin. 

The king paused with his hand on Golorin's chamber door. He looked back at those who had joined him, took a deep breath, and tried the latch. He had expected it to be barred, and as such he was prepared to fight his way in. What he wasn't expecting was for the door to be unlocked. It creaked softly as it swung open, bathing the dark room with an onslaught of light. 

Thorin narrowed his eyes at the dark shadows left untouched by the light of the hall, as though Golorin himself would be hiding in them. Dwalin pushed his way around the king, leveling him with a look that clearly stated for him to stay put, and he did a perimeter check before waving the rest of the group in. 

“Now, to find the tunnel entrance,” Bilbo's voice was soft and careful, as if speaking too loudly would give them away to the room's secrets. The group fanned out, each member feeling along the cold stone walls for a crease or any sign of an entrance. 

“Here!” Ori's excited tone was jarring in the silence, and everyone rushed to his side eagerly. Ori looked to Dwalin. “Here, I can feel a draft near the floor.”

Dwalin crouched down and felt along the seam, grinning triumphantly when he felt the draft his One had spoken of. He moved his fingers carefully along, until he came to a point where the draft was no longer felt, signaling the edge of the doorway.

“Here Thorin, help me push this,” the old guard urged. Thorin nodded and the two of them pushed against the wall. At first, nothing happened, but then the section of stone gave and the hidden door began to rotate. It moved until it was at a right angle from the rest of the wall, revealing a large tunnel lit by burning torches. The floor sloped slightly down, where voices could be heard echoing off the stone. 

“Quickly!” Dis was suddenly in action, pushing past her brother and leading the others down the dimly lit corridor. They followed her without question, Fili and Kili trying to push further ahead where they could ensure their mother's protection. Not that Dis needed protecting, but it made them feel better all the same to be close enough to assist should she be attacked. 

The company came to an abrupt halt as they came upon their quarry. Crenig and Boru. The two were clearly arguing, yelling and gesturing angrily as they held a semi-conscious elf maid between them.

“We can't leave her here! Pretty thing like this, such a waste it would be!” Boru was saying.  
“General's orders. We leave her here. Where she can't cause any trouble or give witness against anyone.”  
“What difference does it make? The king already knows of Golorin's crimes! What does it matter? And besides, if I took her she wouldn't be ratting anyone out anyway!”  
“Listen, do what you will, but I won't be help-” Crenig stopped as he noticed their audience, standing silently and glaring pointedly at them. Dwalin raised a brow and his lip curled into a sneer as he assessed the two dwarves.

“Neither of you will be doin anything with her,” Dwalin growled.  
Crenig dropped the elf's legs and pulled his sword, amusement in his features.  
“Lookin a little battered, there, Dwalin,” he teased.  
Dwalin's eyes narrowed as he pulled his ax from his back and set his grip. He stepped forward, digging his heels in as he prepared for attack.  
“Not as bad as you're about to look, Crenig,” Thorin growled as he took up stance at his friend's side.

Boru stood frozen, assessing the situation nervously. He knew there was no way they could come out of this alive. Dwalin and Thorin could dispatch his partner easily, and it appeared the little scribe was intent on getting himself a piece of Crenig as well. Boru swallowed as Dis and her sons leveled him with murderous looks, and Prince Kili calmly pulled an arrow from the quiver at his back, fitting it and pulling the bow taught, ready to fire.

“Don't shoot!” Boru yelled, pulling the elf in front of him as a shield. He grabbed her hair in one hand, craning her head back over his shoulder, and held a blade to her exposed throat. The elf kicked and scrambled, trying to find purchase on the slippery floor with her knees. She was too tall to find her feet with her head in the dwarf's grasp, and her bound hands kept her from attempting to escape. 

“Give it up, Boru. I can see it in your eyes. You already know you've lost,” Dis's voice rang out clear and firm, a direct command Boru almost obeyed. He hesitated, then pushed the blade closer to the elf's throat, a look of desperation in his eyes. 

“Let me go and I will release her unharmed,” the dwarf offered.  
“Let her go, or I will bury this arrow in you without a second thought,” Dis was surprised at the level fury in Kili's voice. His anger was palpable, so deeply embedded it made his voice cold, devoid of all emotion. 

There was a moments pause where Kili gave the dwarf a second to decide his fate. When it was clear Boru would not be releasing his hostage willingly, Kili narrowed his eyes and set his arrow free. It met it's mark with a sickening sound and pierced Boru right between the eyes. The dwarf froze, then crumbled to the ground, dragging the elf down on top of him. Kili ran across the chamber and dropped to his knees at the elf maid's side, Dis, Fili and Bilbo rushing to join him as the clatter of weapons echoed around them from the others fighting.

The elf was barely holding on, her head lolling and eyelids dropping as she fumbled weakly, trying to get away from the faces gathered around her. She stilled when a hand carefully brushed the hair from her face, then she felt a blade to her wrist. She let out a relieved breath as her hands were freed. She let her body relax as she was lifted from the floor.

“What is your name?” a gentle voice beckoned.  
She fought against the darkness for a moment longer. “Tauriel. My name is Tauriel.”

Kili frowned as the elf lost consciousness, her head dropping back as she finally let her eyes fall closed. Kili hoisted her up a little more, turning her so her head could rest on his shoulder. She was thin, even for an elf, and her hair was dull and tangled as it dragged along the floor. Kili was grateful when Bilbo scooped up the fiery locks and draped them over the elf as they exited. He was hardly aware of the others following him, his mind was far too distracted.  
He had felt it.  
The spark.  
There was nothing else it could have been, as he had hovered over the elf. He had brushed the hair from her face, a simple, innocent gesture, and he had felt the burning heat. The sharp crisp point of his existence pulling to this one being, beckoning his heart to beat in time with hers. 

In a daze, Kili continued to carry the elf to the infirmary. He didn't hear the others around him, didn't hear Crenig hurl insults at them all as Thorin and Dwalin dragged him off. Didn't hear Fili's concerned voice trying to pull him from his foggy mind. Or his mother telling him he would need to set the elf down for Oin to examine. He sat on the cot in the healer's domain and gently laid Tauriel's legs on the mattress. He moved slowly and deliberately, sliding up until the elf was laying flat with her head cradled gently in Kili's lap. He sat there and just stared, running a hand over her hair and drinking in her beauty in resolute silence as the healer worked. Oin fussed over the lithe creature, tutting and tittering before he disappeared in the back room, most likely fetching what he would need to tend to the elf.

“What's wrong with him? Will he be alright?” Fili's calm demeanor slipped, his voice quavering just a bit as he gazed warily at his little brother.  
Dis was quiet for a moment, wondering how best to go about answering her eldest son. She furrowed her brow as she mulled over the chain of events. She was fairly certain she knew what had happened. There was no way to be sure, but she was confident she was right.  
“He's alright. Perhaps he is simply a bit shaken from his first kill. Fili, will you go ask Oin for a tea or tonic to settle him?”

Fili nodded and went off to do as he was told.  
“What is it?” Bilbo asked the princess quietly.  
“If I am not mistaken, Kili has felt the spark.”  
“Oh, well that's wonderful!” Bilbo beamed. “Nothing like some good news to give us a break in the darkness!”  
Dis nodded, but continued to frown.  
“Dis?”  
The dwarrowdam shook her head. “I am not sure Thorin is going to like this.”  
The hobbit nodded. “Perhaps we should wait until morning to tell him.”

* * * * *

Thorin was silent as he marched back to the healing chambers. Dwalin frowned at his king, his earlier concern returning at his friend's obvious turmoil.

“Thorin? I know this... this is a lot,” Dwalin was exercising some of the things Ori had taught him about communicating. He still wasn't great at all this “feelings” stuff, but he would surely try for his friend and king. “This-” Dwalin swallowed and blinked heavily against his attempt at empathy, “this must be hard for you.”

Thorin nodded. “Yes.”  
“What... what is weighing on you right now?” Dwalin asked hesitantly.  
Thorin gave his friend a slight frown, surprised that the hardened guard was asking him to share his troubles. He shook his head lightly and sighed. “It's nothing. It's- I'm very tired.”  
Dwalin scowled. “We both know that's not what's weighing on you.  
Thorin sighed. “It's Bilbo.”  
Dwalin's brow furrowed all the more. “Bilbo? But, the hobbit is fine, Thorin. And from what anyone can tell, the two of you are getting on quite nicely. Why are you concerned for him?”  
“It's not as much my concern for him as....” Thorin was never much good at being vulnerable. This was new ground for he and his friend, and it was a bit awkward to leap into expressing himself so freely. “It's more..... my failings.”

Dwalin shook his head. “Failings? I do not see any failure here, Thorin. You are doing everything you can to make Erebor safe and peaceful again. And- and I am very proud to call you my friend. My King.”

Thorin grinned at the guard, touched by this uncharacteristic display of fondness. Dwalin grinned back and they stopped moving just long enough to crack their heads together, hands clasped at the back of each others necks and foreheads held together for a few moments. 

Finally, Thorin broke the silence. “Thank you, Dwalin.”  
The old guard pulled away and sniffled, attempting to school his features.  
“Yes. Well. Best be hurrying back now.”  
He turned and began walking again, Thorin picking up pace at his side. He huffed when the king gave him a sly grin.

“Ori is doing wonders on you, my friend. I have never heard you come so close to saying you love me,” Thorin teased. Dwalin harrumphed.  
“Yea yea, don't go getting used to it. I think I've filled my quota for the next decade or so with you.”  
Thorin chuckled. They stopped short when Ori, Dis, Fili, and Bilbo met them outside the healing chambers. 

“How is she?” Dwalin asked as Ori came and took up his place at the guard's side, laying a kiss to his cheek.  
“We're not entirely sure yet. Oin is tending to her now,” Dis answered.  
“Good. I hope she is alright,” Thorin answered.  
“Honestly, the mental toll will be the hardest to overcome,” Bilbo added. “I know first hand how hard it can be.”  
“Perhaps you can help her,” Dis said softly, settling a hand on the hobbit's shoulder.  
Bilbo smiled and leaned his head against Dis's arm. “Perhaps,” he agreed.  
“I should go check with Nori, Gloin, and Bifur. See if they've figured out how Bolorin escaped,” Thorin said with a frown.

“Oh no you don't,” Bilbo said, moving from Dis's side to take Thorin's hand, “we are going home!”  
Thorin shook his head. “Bilbo, I must-”  
“You are exhausted, Thorin. You need to rest,” the hobbit said stubbornly, placing a hand on his hip. 

Thorin looked around for support, eyes scanning over the faces surrounding him. Dwalin and Ori were avoiding meeting his gaze, and Dis simply crossed her arms when he looked to her. His eyes met Fili's and he gave him an imploring look, sure he had found an ally.  
“You are looking pale, uncle. And there are dark circles beneath your eyes. You should go to bed,” Fili urged.

Thorin let out a frustrated breath. “How can I sleep when my kingdom is on the verge of ruin?” 

Dwalin reached over and settled a firm hand on the king's shoulder. “Thorin, the kingdom will wait. You are nearly dead on your feet. Go the fuck to bed.”

Thorin sighed, seeing he would not win this one. “Fine. But we meet at sunrise on the morrow. I will not see this kingdom fall into chaos.”

There was a general agreement, and Dwalin and Ori headed off, while Thorin let Bilbo lead to back to their chambers, Dis and Fili following close behind them.

The latch clicked as Bilbo locked the bedchamber door behind them, eager to shut out the rest of the mountain for a few hours. The hobbit sighed in relief and turned around to face the dwarf. Thorin stoked up the fire, then took his seat in his chair before the hearth. Bilbo was quick to join him, taking up his seat at Thorin's side. There was silence for a moment, before the dwarf cleared his throat and gave a heavy sigh.

“I have to apologize to you, Bilbo,” the dwarf began.  
Bilbo's eyes shot to the king, his confusion evident. “Whatever for, Thorin? You've done nothing wrong.”  
“I left you vulnerable. Unguarded. You had to face that- that- traitorous rat alone!” Thorin's emotions were beginning to get the better of him, and he squeezed the ends of his armrests in tight fists as he let his fury at himself overwhelm him. “You could've been injured. Or taken. Or killed. All because I sent you off without protection!”

Bilbo swallowed and gave Thorin a firm look. “Thorin, no. No, it wasn't your fault. And you didn't leave me helpless. Your lessons truly paid off. I held my own long enough to keep myself from injury or capture. That was your doing.”

“It is my fault you had to use that training at all in the first place!”

“No, stop this,” Bilbo rose from his seat and knelt before the dwarf. “You cannot take responsibility for the choices of others. Golorin came for me. That was not your fault. It was his own. You are not responsible for his choices, or what happens because of them. I am glad I had the ability to defend myself! Something you taught me, with a blade you gifted to me! Do not tell me any of this is your fault, Thorin. Because I will argue with you until I run out of breath. You are a good king. A wonderful person and- and an excellent partner. Don't let the actions of others convince you otherwise.”

Thorin shook his head. “You are a curious creature, Bilbo Baggins.” His voice was soft and gentle as he continued, his eyes settling on the flames before them. “I do not know how you still harbor such good in you, after all you've endured.”

“I'm a hobbit. I like to keep it simple,” Bilbo responded with a smile as he rose from the floor. He extended his hand, and Thorin took it, allowing himself to be pulled from his chair.

“Now, I will run you a bath, then I think you need a rub down,” Bilbo said, heading off to the bathroom.  
“Rub down?” Thorin asked as he followed the hobbit.  
“Yes. Hobbit's are experts on the comforts in life, and massage is most certainly one of them.”  
“Massage?” Thorin pressed, watching as Bilbo turned on the water.  
Bilbo looked over his shoulder with a frown. “Yes, massage. The rubbing of muscle to relieve tension and loosen up a bit?”  
“Oh. Does it actually work?”  
“Yes. At least, in my experience it always does,” Bilbo shrugged, “it feels good in any case. In you go now!” 

Thorin dropped his chin, his eyes darkening as he gave the hobbit a heavy look. “Do you wish to watch me bathe, Bilbo?” he asked teasingly, letting his royal mantel drop to the ground.  
“Oh! No, I'm sorry, I'll just.... I'll just go wait out- out there!” with that, Bilbo made a hasty exit while Thorin chuckled a bit to himself.

* * * * *

Bilbo sat on the edge of the bed, mulling over his current position. He had been thinking about it for quite some time, and he was convinced he and Thorin should finalize their bond and bring themselves together for life. He knew if was what he wanted, but he was struggling to find the courage to talk to the king about it. He took a steadying breath as he heard the dwarf enter the room. 

Bilbo raised his head and took in the sight of the dwarf, wrapped in nothing but a towel. How easy it would be to bond with Thorin right now. How tempting, with the vast expanse of skin bare to him, and the thought of all the physical enjoyment they'd shared up to this point. He swallowed dryly as Thorin approached and took a seat next to him on the mattress. 

“Well?” Thorin's voice was laced with amusement, his mouth quirked in a half grin as Bilbo looked to him in confusion.  
“I was promised a massage....” Thorin answered the unspoken question.  
“Oh,” Bilbo shook his head at his own silliness. “Just... just get over here closer and lay on your front.

Thorin did as Bilbo said, moving to the center of the mattress and got settled in on his stomach. 

“Do you have any oil?” Bilbo asked.  
Thorin frowned at the question, wondering why the hobbit could possibly need oil. “In the bathroom. On the shelf.”

Thorin heard the hobbit shuffle off, then return shortly and take his position at his side. He laid there nervously as Bilbo opened the vial and shifted so he was straddling the dwarf. Slick hands wrapped warmly around his shoulders and Thorin moaned as they squeezed his tensed muscles. Oh, this was nice. 

Bilbo's hands moved over the taut muscle of Thorin's shoulders and back, working thoroughly to loosen the tightness and soothe the stressed out king. It was silent for several minutes as the hobbit worked, using his body weight to push at the larger form beneath him.

Judging by the sounds Thorin was making, he was very much enjoying himself. He sighed and groaned contentedly as Bilbo hit all the right places.  
Bilbo thought he may lose his mind. He lost himself to the fantasies evoked by such tantalizing sounds, imagining other ways he could bring these noises from the king.

“Th-Thorin?” Bilbo finally worked up the courage to begin conversation.  
“Hmm?” the dwarf grunted.  
“I've been... thinking a lot... about us...”  
“Mmm..” Thorin responded.  
“I want... I mean, do you... what if we finalized our bond?”  
Thorin was quiet for a moment as Bilbo's words sunk in.

“Bilbo, such decisions should not be made under stress and pressure,” Thorin answered softly.  
Bilbo thought about it. True Thorin was under quite a bit of stress. The hobbit hadn't considered that the king was obviously a bit too distracted to be making lifelong decisions out of the blue. Though, it was still worth mentioning.  
“That's true, but, Thorin, will you please think about it?”  
Thorin grinned. “Bilbo, I have struggled to think of much else since the night we shared the spark.”

Bilbo smiled to himself as he went back to rubbing the dwarf's shoulders. Perhaps in the near future, they would find themselves bound at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're still enjoying this! Thank you everyone who is still with me. We're getting closer to the end! It's bitter sweet.  
> As always, kudos and comments are very appreciated! Love to you all!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so close to the end!!! I hope this chapter doesn't dissapoint. It took me forever to finalize, and I still am not totally 100% sure of it, but here it is anyhow!

In Bilbo's opinion, sunrise had come far too soon, and with it, a hasty and frazzled Thorin had pulled him from the bed and urged him out the door without more than a bite of breakfast. It was a disgruntled hobbit who found himself seated in the council chamber once again, along with Thorin, Dis, Fili, Nori, Ori, Gloin, Bifur, Balin and Dwalin. 

“Did you figure out how Bolorin escaped the prison?” Thorin asked Gloin pointedly.  
The red haired guard nodded. “Aye, we did Your Majesty. There was a tunnel, just as we had suspected. The lads and I followed it for a bit, until it branched out into three other tunnels. We suspect one of those leads to the surface.”

Thorin nodded, a troubled look upon his face. He sighed thoughtfully, then fixed his eyes on his advisor.

“Balin, how fairs our elvish guest? Have you sent word to her people?” Thorin asked the white haired dwarf.

“She is... doing surprisingly well, considering. And... it seems... her kinsman already had a representative located in Dale when we sent our invitation. Prince Legolas will be here by nightfall,” the old dwarf answered. 

“By nightfall?” Thorin gave his advisor an incredulous look. “Well, I suppose he will know soon enough, then. Dis, you have checked in on the elf-maiden this morning?”  
His sister nodded.  
“How soon do you think she will be ready to travel? I'm sure she is eager to go home, and put as much distance between her and this mountain as possible.”

Dis looked uncomfortable, staring at her fidgeting hands, then shared a loaded glance with Bilbo before she answered. “Thorin, I do believe you should go visit her yourself. She- well- she may not be as eager to leave as you suspect.”  
Thorin's brow furrowed as he tried to work out her meaning. What in Erebor could possibly entice an elf?

* * * * *

Thorin stopped before the door of the healing chambers, furrowing his brow pensively. The look on his sister's face as she spoke of the elf maiden had him quite vexed. The fact that his very asking after her seemed to make Dis ... nervous? Uneasy? He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something told him he wouldn't like what he found in the healing chamber. He looked down as he felt Bilbo lay a comforting hand on his arm, and he glanced at the guards ever present at their backs. The guards were taking their posts outside the door, and Bilbo was gesturing for him to open it.

Thorin let out an aggravated breath and pushed the door open just a crack. He stopped when he heard his youngest nephew's voice. But what was Kili doing in the healing rooms? The tintinnabulation that responded was the voice of a flowing stream, melodious and light and full of laughter.   
Thorin's frown deepened. 

Had the lass not just endured who knows what in the captivity of violent, mad dwarves? The fact that she was in good humor was shocking to Thorin. He pushed the door open in bewilderment, only to find himself all the more puzzled. 

The elf was laying on her side on the cot where they had left her the night before, and Kili was perched happily next to her, swinging his legs off the bedside and holding her hand in his lap, idly caressing her fingers. The two were smiling widely, and it was clear they were perfectly comfortable together. 

Thorin nearly gasped when they elf's bright green eyes trained on him, locking him in her intelligent gaze. It was unnerving, the intensity he found there, calculating and fierce. 

How had anyone kept this lass captive for so long? She was dangerous and cunning, and Thorin could feel it within that acute stare.

Bilbo cleared his throat from behind Thorin, nudging the king gently with an elbow.

“Kili,” Thorin began a bit gruffly, “I didn't expect to find you here.”  
His youngest nephew beamed at him, hopping off the bed and hurrying to greet him with a gentle touch of foreheads. He pulled back, leaving a hand on his uncle's shoulder.   
“Uncle, I would like you to meet Tauriel,” Kili gestured toward the cot behind him. 

Thorin swallowed and slowly approached the elf, who was pushing herself up to sit against the wall at the head of her bed. She met Thorin's eyes for a moment, before ducking her head in a bow.

“Your Majesty,” there was lilt to her voice, but even Thorin could hear her uncertainty. Her skin was eerily pale, like most of her kin. Her hair a brilliant red that caught the light as it danced like fire around her slender frame. 

Thorin looked closer, and could see the toll captivity had taken on her body. She was broken and battered, high spirited as she might be, and at that moment she understood her fate rested with him. Certainly after her treatment, she would feel uneasy at meeting the king. She raised her head hesitantly, awaiting his judgment.

“Uncle Thorin,” Kili's voice sounded strained to Thorin's ears as he turned to face his nephew, “you should know, Tauriel is... Tauriel is very important to me.”   
Thorin nodded slowly, the pieces finally falling together in his mind. “Go on,” he encouraged.  
Kili fidgeted, refusing to meet Thorin's gaze. “She...”  
“Kili?”   
The young prince took a steadying breath and finally looked up.   
“Uncle, she is my One.”

Thorin looked from the elf to his nephew, and he wasn't sure who looked more terrified. Kili dropped his gaze again, focusing on his feet as he worried the hem of his tunic.  
Thorin sighed deeply and turned to face his nephew, placing his hands on the young dwarf's shoulders. 

“Kili, why do you look as though you're awaiting death?”  
Kili slowly lifted his head to meet his uncle's gaze.  
Thorin chuckled as hope filled the young dwarf's eyes.   
“I am happy for you, my sister-son.” He pulled Kili in and hugged him tight, laying a kiss to the top of his head, before pulling away and and giving him a reassuring smile. He released Kili and turned to the elf.

“My lady Tauriel,” he began, “I must apologize on behalf of Erebor.”   
His voice was deep and serious, loaded with grief and sincerity. He tentatively took one of the elf's hands in his own. Her skin was soft and so very pale, nearly glowing in the firelight.  
“You must have endured more than any of us can fathom.”   
He shook his head regretfully.   
“I am truly sorry.” He slowly leaned forward, giving the elf time to object. When it was apparent she was not threatened by his proximity, he laid a gentle kiss to the back of Tauriel's hand. 

Tauriel gave the king a watery smile as he pulled away, and she wiped at her eyes with the back of her free hand. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice like the wind in the trees.

Thorin smiled and released Tauriel's hand, stepping back to allow Kili to retake his seat at her side.  
“You are welcome to stay or go as you please, but I must insist you take an escort with you wherever you choose to go. These halls are not safe as of yet,” Thorin bowed his head lightly before he and Bilbo left Kili and Tauriel to themselves.

“Well,” Bilbo began as he and Thorin swept down the hall, “that went a far sight better than Dis and Fili anticipated!”  
Thorin shrugged. “How can I fault my kin for being fated to one who is not a dwarf?”

Thorin raised an amused eyebrow at Bilbo and took up the hobbit's hand.   
“I hope Kili finds happiness with Tauriel, and I hope the elf can forgive me for what my grandfather put her through.” Thorin's face darkened as he considered the horrors that may have been inflicted on one who he may soon call family.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” an old familiar voice from behind them pulled them to a stop, “it has been far too long.”

Bilbo's face lit up as he recognized their visitor. “Gandalf?”

* * * * *

Thorin was not exactly thrilled to be pulled into yet another meeting. The last year had been full of more surprises than he cared for, never mind the fact that not all of them were bad. He sighed and crossed his arms on the table across from the gray wizard. Bilbo was at his right, with Ori and Dwalin, and Dis and Balin at his left.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Tharkun?” Thorin asked curiously.  
“There are two reasons I have come to Erebor, King Thorin. The first, I wished to inform you that with the help of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, I have managed to destroy the Arkenstone. It will no longer worsen the effects of untended bonds for your people. Secondly, I have come on the behalf of another. One who awaits my summons from Ravenhill. He comes to request your aid.”  
“Ravenhill? And why haven't they joined you here, if they intend to ask for my help?” Thorin asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.  
“His name is Beorn. He is a skin changer, and many find his appearance... threatening,” Gandalf responded carefully. 

Thorin frowned at the wizard. “And what would a possibly dangerous person want from the dwarves of Erebor?”  
“As I said, he comes seeking your aid. If you will agree to allow him entrance, I am sure he would rather speak to you of his plight himself.”  
“Very well. Send word. He is welcome to come and meet with me. I will hear him, and help him, if I can.”

Gandalf nodded gratefully, and hurried off to send word to his friend. It was within the hour that the wizard returned, a rather large man with him. The man was fierce looking, more resembling a bear than a man, with coarse brown fur covering his body, and predatory gold eyes fringed with owl like eyebrows. 

“Beorn, I welcome you to Erebor,” Thorin greeted formally. “Please, have a seat.”  
Balin showed Gandalf and the skin changer to their seats, and all present felt quite a bit more relaxed with the large man seated.

“What can the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain do for you?” Thorin asked pointedly.  
“I am in great need of your assistance,” Beorn began. “I come from what was a peaceful land, between the Misty Mountains and the Greenwood. Several months past, my kin were attacked by a great white orc. He came with his army and took our lands. My kin who survived were enslaved, myself included. I managed to escape, to run for help, but there are none who have agreed to come to our aid. The elves have not made a decision. And the men... they are too cowardly. And so I have come to you, King Thorin, to ask that you help me rid this land of a most vicious enemy.

This orc is bloodthirsty, determined to take control of all the lands he can reach. Will you aid me, and help me free what remains of my kin? Or will you let the race of skin changers go extinct? Let the evil of orcs spread throughout all of Arda, consuming everything within reach?”

The silence that followed was thick with anxiety, all dwarves present nearly afraid to breathe.  
“You ask much, Beorn, skin changer. I must meet with my most trusted kin and advisors, but I promise you an answer by sundown tomorrow,” Thorin answered. 

“That is more than I have been offered by others. I thank you,” Beorn responded. He quickly rose from his chair and walked out of the room, leaving a heavy silence behind him.

Several moments passed, before everyone was on their feet yelling at once.   
“Help him? We can't even help our own kingdom!” Dwalin was shouting.  
“We can't just let them all die!” Ori countered.  
“SILENCE!” Thorin shouted the room to order, and all looked expectantly at the king.

“We will reconvene in the morning to discuss this matter further,” Thorin ordered. He stood from his chair and Bilbo followed him quietly out of the room.

* * * * *

Thorin was not looking forward to this part. The meeting with the elven prince was necessary, but the thought of what he now had to explain left his stomach twisted in knots. 

How does a king go about informing a potential ally that his predecessor had been keeping one of their people as a slave? 

Balin and Dwalin followed Thorin into the throne room, four guards trailing the trio as they went. The elvin prince stood in the center of the room, flanked by two personal guards, lightly armored, and several other elves, all light skinned with silvery hair. Their pale complexions and delicate features put Dwalin on edge. Not that he had anything against elves. On the contrary, he admired their skill and agility, but he couldn't help it if he found them..... unnerving.

“Prince Legolas,” Thorin greeting the elf, “it is good to see you again.”  
The elf bowed his head lightly. “And you, King Thorin.”   
The dwarf returned the gesture, then took a few steps closer to the elf prince.  
“I thought perhaps we could hold our meeting in a more private location,” Thorin said quietly, “I have delicate information to share with you.”

Legolas gave Thorin a wary look, his brow furrowing as he tipped his head slightly.   
“You may bring your guards, I do not wish to make you feel threatened,” Thorin added.

Legolas nodded slowly, then he and his two personal guards followed Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin into the side chamber down the hall. Balin held the door, allowing the prince and guards through before he quickly closed the door behind him. 

The silence was uneasy as they all took their seats, Legolas and Thorin placing themselves at opposite ends of the small table.

“Alright. You have my full attention. What is this about?” the elf asked shortly. He was still on edge at the impromptu change in venue, and not at all thrilled with being closed off from the rest of his companions.

Thorin looked down at his hands firmly clasped on the table and sighed.   
“This is not easy for me,” he began, urging himself on lest he lose his nerve. “As you know, toward the end of his life, my grandfather was... not well.”

Legolas nodded, curious as to where this was going.

“He made many questionable decisions, and put several lives in danger, as well as Erebor itself. I was aware of many misdeeds, and more came to light after his passing. One of those being his use of personal slaves.”

The elf's frown deepened. “What kind of slaves? What did he do to them?”  
Thorin shook his head. “I am not yet sure. However, I may be able to find out, as his last slave has been found. Alive.”

It was silent for a few moments, before Legolas finally found his voice. “And, who is this slave?”  
“An elf. An elf with fiery red hair. She says her name is Tauriel.”  
The elf's eyes pinched closed and he dropped his face into his hands, his pain evident.  
“I assume you know her,” Thorin asked.

Legolas rubbed at his eyes and took a few shuddering breaths before he finally managed to lift his head and meet Thorin's gaze.  
“Yes. She-” he swallowed thickly against the tears as he forced himself to continue, “she was our guard captain. Went missing nearly a year ago.”  
Thorin frowned and shook his head in disbelief. “Why didn't you tell us?”  
Legolas gave him an incredulous look. “Your grandfather was the one who took her. Why would he agree to give us his help? Besides, my father and I were banned from his court.”

“Banned?” Thorin asked in surprise.  
“Yes. He said we would be put to death if we dared to enter this mountain again.”

Thorin shook his head in disbelief. Suddenly, the elf's presence at his grandfather's memorial seemed even more significant.  
“I'm so sorry, Legolas. He was never very..... diplomatic.”

Legolas laughed coldly. “That's a very nice way of putting it.”   
His gaze softened and he let out a sigh.   
“We do not blame you for Thror's decisions. He was clearly mad.”  
Thorin nodded. “Aye. He was not well.”  
“And how do we know you will not fall to the same madness yourself?”

Thorin closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, willing himself to find the words to explain.

“Thorin has people in place to see to it that doesn't happen,” Balin interjected. “Furthermore, we have found the root of the issue, and it is no longer a problem.”  
Legolas nodded with a skeptical frown, clearly not entirely convinced. “Very well. May I see Tauriel?”  
“Of course.”

* * * * *

Thorin closed the bedroom door, relieved to finally be able to shut out the rest of the mountain. It was all getting to be too much. The pressure and threats to his kingdom and people were getting to be quite a heavy burden. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo gave the king a concerned look. He set his book down and rose from his chair, moving to stand before the dwarf. “Thorin, are you alright?”

“Bilbo, my kingdom is in chaos. Erebor is in no way ready to face open war! What should I do?”

Bilbo sighed. “From the sounds of it, there soon won't be much choice. If this orc is anything like Beorn described, it's only a matter of time before he turns his attention to Erebor. What is the right thing to do, Thorin?”

Thorin moved to sit before the fire. He sighed heavily as he slumped back in his seat.   
“I don't know any more.”

Bilbo came and knelt before the king's chair. He settled his hands on his knees and huffed out a resigned breath.  
“You do know. You know, and you will make the right decision, because that's who you are, Thorin. You will listen to your council, and you will listen to your own heart, and you will do what you know you must.”

Thorin placed a gentle hand on the side of Bilbo's face. The hobbit nuzzled into the caress as Thorin smiled warmly down at him. To Bilbo's surprise, the dwarf slid from his chair and onto his knees, forcing the hobbit to move back to make room. Thorin took Bilbo's hands in his own, and the two knelt facing each other before the hearth.

“Thorin?” Bilbo's voice quavered a bit in question. 

Thorin swallowed thickly.   
“I was going to wait. Wait until my kingdom was safe and you could feel protected and comfortable. But I don't know that will happen, and if Erebor is to go to war, I will fight for her, and as such, my survival is not ensured.”

Bilbo shook his head and prepared to scold the dwarf for his negative words, but Thorin raised his hand to silence him. He reached in to an inner pocket of his tunic, and held out his palm to Bilbo.  
“If I am not meant to survive, I would at least like you to have this to remember me, and if I do survive, I hope that you will accept it as a bead of betrothal.” 

Bilbo looked down at the bead in Thorin's hand. It was silver in color, and had tiny emeralds set into it. When Bilbo looked closer, he saw they were leaf shaped, and around them were beautifully carved vines similar to the ones in the design of the bead that now hung over Thorin's shoulder.

“Oh..” Bilbo gasped. He put a hand over the bead and looked up at Thorin with a warm smile. “If Erebor is to go to war, you will return to me, and when you do, we shall be wed.” 

Thorin's answering smile was radiant, and he quickly pulled Bilbo into a tight embrace. Bilbo chuckled and pulled back to look Thorin in the eye.  
“I love you.”  
Thorin's smile grew at the declaration. “Amralime.”  
He leaned down to kiss Bilbo, setting his hands lightly on the hobbit's face.

“Come to bed?” Bilbo asked softly. Thorin gave him a crooked grin and they moved closer to the bed. They shared another kiss, pulling layers from each other until they both stood bare at the bedside. 

Bilbo moved onto the mattress, Thorin following him and laying kisses to every inch of skin he could reach. He settled himself between the hobbit's legs, and looked up at Bilbo's suddenly nervous face. The hobbit licked his lips and looked up at the dwarf hovering over him, trying to find courage. It was difficult, and the sight of the gorgeous king knelt on the sheets only distracted him further. He closed his eyes and took a measured breath, determined to see this through.  
“Bond with me?” Bilbo asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

Thorin's eyes widened, and then he shook his head. “Bilbo, I couldn't. I couldn't do that to you. Not when Erebor is almost certainly facing war. If something were to happen to me, you would be doomed to share in my fate. I would never... I could never ask that of you.”

“I am asking, Thorin. I am asking to share in your fate. To have the two of us bound for life. I want to be with you. And, from what I understand, we would be better able to feel what the other is experiencing during battle. Perhaps we could help each other that way.”

Thorin was shaking his head before the hobbit could finish.   
“You will not be anywhere near battle,” Thorin said firmly. 

“All the same. Would it not make you feel more confident to know for sure that I am safe? You will worry for me otherwise, I know you will. It could be a distraction.”

Thorin frowned. “I couldn't ask you to bond with me so that I am not distracted.”

Bilbo sat up and took Thorin's face in his hands, leveling him with a serious look.   
“I am not saying we should bond because it would keep you from being distracted. That would just be one placed benefit. I am asking you to bond with me, because I wish to be bound to you. I wish for our fates to be forever tied. I wish to feel what you do, and share our lives forever.” He slid his hands down to Thorin's bare chest, his eyes following the movement.   
“I wish to feel you, physically and otherwise.”   
He shook his head and raised is gaze to meet the dwarf's pleadingly.   
“Please, will you have me, Thorin?”

The tension was thick, and the silence heavy as the two stared into each other's eyes, Bilbo's anticipation and anxiety holding by a thread as Thorin weighed his options.   
How could he tie one he loved so deeply to the chance of sharing death? 

The moment drug on a little too long, and Bilbo's face fell as he lay back. He turned away in embarrassment, accepting defeat.   
“O-oh. Alright, I understand.”

Thorin leaned down and place his hands next to the hobbit's head, taking Bilbo's mouth in a heated kiss. They lost themselves for a moment, tasting and melding together, before Thorin pulled back and gave Bilbo a look that made the hobbit's heart skip a beat. Never had he seen Thorin look so vulnerable.

“I would love nothing more than to bond with you, Bilbo.”   
He grinned at the hobbit's excited smile, then reached over to the nightstand to grab the healing salve that had sat unused for weeks. He opened it and drug his fingers through it lightly, then set it by his knee. He sat back on his heels and admired the creature splayed out before him.

Bilbo gasped as a finger grazed over his entrance and began circling it lightly. The teasing touch continued, brushing lightly up over his stones and along the underside of his shaft, before plunging down to tease at his opening again. 

Bilbo gasped as a fingertip breached him, but it stopped short, leaving him wanting.  
“Thorin... please...”  
His pleas were heard, and the thick digit pushed slowly into him, giving him a taste of what was to come. He ground down on the intrusion, already desperate for more. Thorin acquiesced and began moving his finger slowly. He hit a nerve and Bilbo keened, pushing down to gain more friction.

“Thorin... Please...” Bilbo breathed, and how could Thorin deny him? He pulled out his finger and reached for the salve, coating his shaft thoroughly, before lining it up and slowly beginning to push in.

Bilbo's body froze at the intrusion, much thicker than the finger from before. He took a few deep steadying breaths, letting his body relax. The dwarf moaned as he pushed inside, overwhelmed by the tight heat surrounding him. He shifted his hips a little, eager to begin moving in earnest. He was overjoyed when Bilbo met his eyes and wrapped his arms around the dwarf, pulling his hips closer and urging him to move. 

Thorin rolled his hips into Bilbo's roughly, and the hobbit's back arched and he moaned in delight. It didn't take long before Thorin felt the familiar heat coiling, and by Bilbo's keens he knew the hobbit was getting close. He leaned down and settled his body against Bilbo's, slowing his pace and meeting Bilbo's awe-struck gaze.

“Are you ready?” Thorin asked huskily.  
Bilbo nodded jerkily, and Thorin's thrusted deeper. Bilbo's eyes rolled back and he felt his breath catching as he climbed ever higher toward his peak. He was suddenly aware of an empty feeling at the center of his chest. It wasn't as much as something missing, as something pushing everything else to the side, until he felt as though his insides may squash out. 

“Relax. You'll have to let me in,” Thorin's breathy voice was muffled, and Bilbo couldn't recall when he had closed his eyes, but he must have. Everything was dark, and it took him some concentration to relax against the strange sensation coming over him, but he finally managed to let go. There was a tightening pressure, one that was oh-so-familiar, then the following release as he came hard and fast. Then, there was light. White light clouded his vision and it felt as though time stood still as he felt Thorin snap in to place in his heart.   
Their heart.  
He could feel him. He could feel Thorin's mind, locking in with his. The ghost of another presence in his mind, in his heart, in his very soul. 

Bilbo's eyes snapped open and he met Thorin's intense stare, and he could feel it. He could feel all the love pouring from that sap of a dwarf, and he knew that Thorin could feel him too.

Thorin collapsed on the mattress next to Bilbo, and they turned to face each other, letting the feeling sink in.   
He could feel it. He could feel everything.   
They were bonded for life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!!! I hope the smut was up to snuff. Thank you for reading and commenting!!!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter here, but so many things about to happen! I'm so exited to see what you think! Enjoy!

Thorin woke in a cold sweat, shooting upright and panting in the wake of a most horrible nightmare.  
He had been there. He had seen and felt all that Bilbo had. He saw Raburk, Tamir, and Glormur approach the bench where the hobbit sat smoking his pipe. He felt the terror as they had taken Bilbo captive. He had stood, shivering and wet, tied to a tree while the dwarves slept in warm bedrolls under the cover of tents. He had felt the pain of steel toed boots connecting with his side over and over, and the sting of a whip at his back. He struggled against much stronger hands, helpless against them as a red hot sword was brought ever closer to his foot. 

So much fear. So much pain. 

Thorin's breath came out in short gasps as he tried to shake himself from the nightmare's grasp.  
Bilbo's nightmare. A nightmare the hobbit had personally lived through, and it shocked Thorin to the core to feel it first hand.

“Thorin?” Bilbo's voice washed over him warmly, and a gentle hand rested at his back. “What's wrong?”  
The dwarf took a deep shuddering breath and let it out slowly before he could answer.  
“You were having a nightmare.”

It took a moment for Bilbo to understand, but finally it dawned on him.

Thorin had felt it. Thorin had seen his nightmare. Felt his pain. He could sense it now, some inner part of his heart could feel the fear that was not entirely his.  
It was Thorin's.

The hobbit immediately felt a sense of guilt at having brought this on his love. But after the initial feeling settled in, he felt comfort.  
Finally someone would understand. Finally, there would be someone close to him who would know, who would see the world through his eyes, and know how to help guide him.  
Thorin would know. Thorin would see his discomfort when a strange dwarf got too close, or someone lost their temper, and he would understand. He would know how to pull Bilbo back from the edge of panic, and help him to feel safe.

“I will,” Thorin answered the unspoken thoughts. “I will understand, and you will always be safe with me.”  
Bilbo's eyes stung as they filled with tears and he fell into Thorin's arms. The dwarf eased him down so they could lay in each other's embrace, allowing the nightmare to loose it's grip.  
Thorin began to sing.

* * * * *

“Alright lads, we have a lot to go over today!” Balin stood before the round stone table of the meeting room, trying to reign in the attention of all present. Most of the others stopped their chatter and turned their attention to the advisor, but Kili was bouncing in his seat. It had taken a lot to convince the prince to leave Tauriel's side, and he was eager to return to her, but Thorin had insisted on having all those he trusted present for this discussion, particularly his kin.

“Thank you Balin,” Thorin began as the old advisor took his seat. “As you all know, Erebor has been asked for help against a familiar enemy. Orcs have plagued this region before, at one time or another, and we dwarves are no strangers to their evil. We must now decide if Erebor should once again take up arms against these foul creatures, on behalf of others. First, I ask, who among you believes this to be the right course? Who is in favor of giving aid to these skin-changers?”

Bombur, Ori, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, Dis, Bilbo, Bifur, and Bofur, who Bombur had insisted on bringing, all raised their hands in agreement, and Thorin nodded thoughtfully as he looked over his friends and kin.  
“Alright. That leaves five,” Balin said before turning to his brother. “I thought you were against this insanity?” he questioned accusingly.

“Ori talked some sense into me,” Dwalin gave his One a fond smile. “There may be no Erebor left if we allow that orc to gain more support and possibly take us on. We must stop him, and free those he imprisoned, as surely as we have been righting similar wrongs in our own kingdom.”

“Well said, my friend. It seems the majority is intent on aiding the skin changers. Balin?” Thorin implored.  
The old advisor sighed. “I am too old for possible war, My King. But I will support whatever decision you make. Though, it will be hard to organize our armies without a General,” Balin raised a pointed eyebrow at the king, who grinned in response.

“That brings me to our next item of business. Dwalin?”  
The Guard Captain frowned. “Yes, My King?”  
“I formally offer you the position of Army General. Do you accept?”  
Dwalin's frown slowly lifted into an excited grin. “I thought you'd never ask.”  
“It is yours, then. General Dwalin, ready your armies to march. We leave in two days time.”

Dwalin stood and moved around the table to give Thorin a warm hug.  
“Thank you, my friend,” Dwalin muttered.  
“You deserve it. Now go whip your armies into shape, and be quick about it,” Thorin quipped. Dwalin gave him a chuckle and a hard clap to the shoulder. He turned and gave Ori a wink as he made his way back across the room and out the door. 

“Alright lads, there's a lot to do,” Balin announced, “let's get to it.”  
There was a shuffle of movement as everyone began to slowly make their way to their feet.

Balin leaned back, closer to Thorin's ear. “That was easier than I expected,” he said.

Thorin nodded approvingly. “I am pleasantly surprised, and I believe I have found more members for my council.”

Balin grinned at the declaration. “It is unheard of for a king to appoint so many to his council so soon after coronation.”

“I'm lucky to have such a loyal group of dwarves surrounding me. Ori?” Thorin turned to the scribe, “I would like you to make a list of all that were present today, and send them each formal offers for seats on my council.”

“Yes Your Highness. I'll get started on that now.”

Thorin nodded and turned back to his advisor. “Balin, send a raven to both King Thranduil, and King Bard. Ask them to keep an eye out for Golorin and his brother. We can't drop our guard against the other monsters that may be lurking.”

“Yes My King. Consider it done.”

* * * * *

Legolas stood uncertainly before the great stone door. It was strange to go from being banned from the mountain, to being invited to the royal chambers, and the elf was a bit disoriented at the abrupt change. 

“You know you can go in. You were invited after all,” the red haired guard said, his voice shaking Legolas from his musings. 

Instead of answering, the elf took a deep breath and opened the door before him. The room within was a bit dark, if warm and inviting. Well, as inviting as stone could be to an elf. 

“Prince Legolas, I'm glad you've come,” Thorin greeted the elf, rising from his chair at the hearth. 

Legolas nodded in response, still feeling a bit awkward.

“Follow me,” Thorin said as he moved across the room. He stopped before one of the stone doors at the other side of a long table, and knocked sharply.

“Yes?” a voice answered from inside.

Thorin pushed the door open a crack and leaned in. “Kili, Prince Legolas has come to speak with Tauriel.”

Legolas stepped back as the dwarf prince exited. The elf gave the two dwarves a look of confusion, before ducking into the room and closing the door behind him. 

“Legolas?” Tauriel's voice was music to the prince's ears, and he ran quickly to her side. She sat comfortably in a cushioned chair.

“Tauriel!” the blond elf dropped to his knees and grabbed the red-head in a fierce embrace. “I thought you were dead.” Legolas pulled back, leaving his hands resting on Tauriel's shoulders. His eyes shone in the firelight, filled with relief and the remnants of sorrow. “When can you come home?”

Tauriel's smile fell, and she shook her head, refusing to meet the prince's eyes. “I'm not entirely sure.”

Legolas tilted his head in question, brow furrowing slightly over his too-blue eyes. “What does that mean?”

“I won't be coming home any time very soon,” Tauriel finally admitted.

“Why not?” 

Tauriel dropped her gaze to her hands fidgeting in her lap.

The prince's eyes narrowed. “What are you not telling me? And why are you staying in Prince Kili's rooms?”

Tauriel took a deep breath and turned to face her friend and prince. “I do not wish to return home just yet. And if I do, it will only be for a short while. I...” she closed her eyes for a moment, willing for the courage to continue. “Thorin's nephew has offered me courtship.”

Legolas jumped up to his feet, shock marring his features. He frowned all the harder, willing Tauriel's words to make sense. “Courtship?”

“Yes. You know of dwarves and their soul mates?”

Legolas looked even more confused. “Yes.”

“I am Kili's One.”

The prince shook his head. “That is not possible.”

“It is. I feel it.”

“And, you will make a home in this mountain? Away from the forest? Away from me?”  
For all Legolas sounded furious, Tauriel could hear the pain in his voice. 

“Please, you are my dearest friend. I had hoped you would be happy for me. I have a chance at love, at family. And you may visit, hopefully frequently.”

Legolas sighed and dropped his head, rubbing a hand agitatedly along his neck. “If you choose to remain in this mountain, I promise I will visit. You are like a sister to me. Of course I want you happy. But,” he raised his eyebrows, giving his friend a dramatic grimace, “a dwarf, Tauriel?”

The red head smiled and let out a chuckle. “Yes, My Lord Legolas. A dwarf.”

* * * * *

Dwalin stood on the wall a the front gates, looking out over the landscape. He braced his hands on the rail, watching the progress of three dwarven scouts making their way to the mountain. He reflected on the events of the morning, as he watched the three scouts approach. He had been thrilled when Thorin had offered him the position of General, though it wasn't too surprising. He had assumed... well, he had hoped, that he would be given the position, being as experienced as he was, and of course it helped that the king knew he could be trusted.

Dwalin took a step back, preparing to head down to meet the scouts. They would be within Erebor's walls withing minutes, and obviously had some news to share. He made his way down the stairs, reaching the ground floor as the scouts spoke with the guard at the gate. The guard gestured towards Dwalin, and the three dwarves dismounted and hurried to share their news with the newly appointed General.

“General Dwalin,” the scout that reached him first was young, and quite frantic as he came to an abrupt halt before the old guard.  
“What is it, lad?”  
“Orcs. At the north end of the Greenwood. There's an army of them!”

“North of the Greenwood?” Dwalin thought of the orc Beorn had described. “Did ya see who is leading them?”

The scout frowned, looking to his fellows who had finally caught up with the young dwarf. The dwarf standing to his right stepped forward. “A pale orc. He was riding a white warg.”

Dwalin let out a sigh. “Thank you. Send word. I want all our officers assembled in the throne room in one hour.” He turned and moved as quickly as he could to find Thorin. Maybe this was a good thing. It would be much easier to take on orcs from the safety of their mountain, rather than on unfamiliar terrain. 

Dwalin found Thorin, hand in hand with his hobbit walking out of the Dining Hall.  
“Thorin!”  
The king stopped cold, his smile dying on his lips at the urgency in Dwalin's voice.  
The two shared a loaded look, then Thorin was tearing after Dwalin down the hall and toward the throne room, Bilbo, Balin, and Ori hot on their heels. They reached the throne room, and turned into the meeting chamber off to the side. 

Dwalin was clearly agitated, rubbing his hand over his beard as he waited for the others to get settled.  
Ori approached the General, tentatively taking his hand. “Dwalin?”  
The larger dwarf gave him a sidelong glance and turned to face Thorin, who had just taken a seat next to Bilbo at the small table. 

“Alright,” Balin began as he closed the door. “What is it?”

“Orcs,” Dwalin answered. “Our scouts have reported orcs heading toward us from the north end of the Greenwood. An army of them.”

Thorin frowned, nodding thoughtfully at the table before him. “I suppose we should prepare for war, General.” 

“I have the officers assembling in the throne room. You must make the declaration, and we will begin preparation.”

“How long do we have?” Balin asked.

“Until sundown.”

* * * * *

Captains and lieutenants saw over the preparations of their soldiers and archers, while Dwalin and the guards began arming and arranging the other dwarrow from the mountain. 

Bilbo watched in awe, standing on a balcony that overlooked the mass of dwarrow below. Mail and armor was being set, swords and knives sharpened, and the room was heavy with anticipation. Bilbo squeezed the rail before him and pinched his eyes shut, remembering what Ori had once told him.

Every dwarf was a warrior, to some degree.

The hobbit shuddered, hating the thought of Thorin and his newfound family anywhere near battle. 

“Don't worry, Bilbo,” a familiar voice rumbled from behind him as warm, comforting arms wrapped around his middle. Bilbo sighed as Thorin laid a kiss to the top of his head, then rested his cheek against the soft curls.  
“An orc army stands no chance against the mountain. Erebor is a fortress, one that cannot be easily breached. We can withstand siege for months on end. This battle has already been won.”

Bilbo groaned and turned to face the king, a frown marring his face.  
“Isn't it dangerous to make such bold assumptions right before war, My King?”

Thorin grinned. “Perhaps. Or perhaps saying it only makes me feel better.”

“I know.” Bilbo sighed. “I can feel your apprehension. What are you so worried about?”

Thorin grimaced and shook his head. “I cannot bear the thought of you in battle. Yet, leaving you in the mountain, where Golorin or his ilk may get their hands on you.... I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing will,” Dis's voice startled them both, and they jumped as she approached. The dwarrowdam smiled at Bilbo and put a hand on Thorin's shoulder. “I will be right here beside you,” she said to the hobbit fondly.  
“Dis?” Thorin questioned. 

His sister looked up at him reassuringly.  
“I will stay with him Thorin. I will make sure he comes to no harm.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said softly, laying his forehead against hers. He pulled away and turned to Bilbo, pulling him into a bone crushing hug.  
“Stay safe,” Thorin whispered softly.

Bilbo leaned back to look Thorin in the eye. “You- you have to promise me....”  
He looked away for a moment, trying to keep his emotions in check. When he finally managed to look back at his One, he nearly crushed Thorin with the weight of his stare.  
“Come back to me?” the hobbit's voice shook just a little, but he managed to keep the tears from falling from where they had gathered along his lashes. 

Thorin's face screwed up in agony, and he took Bilbo's face in his hands and kissed him long and deep, trying to say all he couldn't put into words.  
“I promise. I will come back to you,” Thorin breathed over Bilbo's lips, before he quickly turned and rushed off to join Dwalin and lead the army into position.

Thorin wiped the wetness from his face as he walked through the entrance hall, soldiers parting swiftly at his approach. He had always considered himself an emotional dwarf, but the emotions he felt from Bilbo were more intense than any he had ever experienced. He was having difficulty keeping them from overwhelming him, but he wouldn't give up the assurance of Bilbo's love for anything.

“King Thorin,” a haughty voice called to him from the front gate. 

“King Thranduil?” Thorin turned to see the elf king dismounting his elk.

“Where is my son?” the elf asked as he approached.

“Father?” Legolas came running from a side chamber, Tauriel on his heels.

“I come with news regarding your last raven, King Thorin, and I have brought my own troops to assist you.” Thranduil removed his riding gloves and handed them to his guard. “The dwarves you asked me to look out for? The traitors you spoke of? They are just passing through the Greenwood.”

Thorin frowned. “What are they doing in your forest?”

“Leading a battalion of orcs and goblins to your mountain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! A lot to take in, but we're almost there! Up next, the battle!!! Who's ready?!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Chapter 30! And oh look, big surprise, there will be another one. Heeheehee  
> Enjoy!!!

Clouds were rolling in, casting long shadows over the mountain as dwarves and elves stood ready for battle. The scout on Ravenhill announced the approach of their enemy with blaring trumpets, and it seemed as though the mountain herself were holding her breath. Bilbo stood on the highest balcony, far over the gates and overlooking the wall where the archers were posted. It was the closest Thorin would allow him to get, still too far for an arrow to reach him. Dis stood to his right, a vision of poised grace as Fili paced agitatedly behind them. 

Fili was disappointed to have been left behind when even his little brother would be fighting for their kingdom. He leaned over the stone rail and looked down where Kili was stationed on the wall above the gates. The dark haired prince stood proudly, his bow in hand and quiver full, awaiting Captain Gilda's command. Tauriel stood proudly beside him, still too weak to join the battle below, but she had insisted that she was strong enough to draw her bow. 

Thorin had ordered that Fili stay behind. He could not chance losing his heir. If Thorin were to fall, the line of Durin needed to be secure, and there was no arguing when Dis agreed with him. She had made the command, and Fili had given up trying to argue. Though, the thought that he would be sitting out while his little brother was allowed to fight did not sit well with the eldest prince. 

Kili seemed to feel Fili's eyes at his back, and he turned and lifted his gaze. His eyes found Fili, and the young prince had the audacity to grin and give him a wink, before he turned his attention back to the approaching army. 

Fili chuckled and shook his head. His brother was an ass. He followed his brother's gaze and noticed the troops of men from Dale. It took several minutes before Fili recognized Bard, standing before his army under the cover of a hill far to the east of what would soon be a battle field. 

A surprise attack. Fili smiled and looked at his mother, who raised an eyebrow and quirked a half grin.   
“Seems Bard has heard of our plight and decided to join us,” the dwarrowdam pointed the men out to Bilbo, who only felt slightly reassured.   
“Let's hope there are enough to challenge the second army,” Bilbo declared, watching the Legolas clear the space between the men and the mountain on horseback. 

* * * * *

Thorin sat upon his mount before his army with Dwalin at his right, and Ori close at Dwalin's side. Dwalin had thrown quite a fit over his One facing battle, but Ori had insisted and everyone knew once the scribe's mind was made up, there would be no arguing with him.

“Stay close to me,” Dwalin muttered, throwing a nervous glance at his One.  
Ori gave him a mischievous grin, all determination and ferocity, which Dwalin only returned half heartedly.

Thranduil cleared his throat to get the dwarves attention as Legolas approached. He sat as tall as he could on his regal elk, towering over the smaller figures to his right. The effect was impressive, though it seemed to lose its impact when Legolas moved right past him to speak with Thorin instead.   
“The orcs will arrive any moment,” Legolas announced as Thranduil shot him an annoyed look. “Bard and his armies are in place over that rise.”  
“He came.” Thorin sounded pleased.   
“I didn't think the men would come,” Thranduil said loftily, “I suppose you have proven yourself a more capable ruler than your grandfather,” the elf's voice spat the last words, his distaste of Thror evident.

Thorin sighed. It was best to have the elf king at his side, but he still didn't like the bastard, though a comment like that from Thranduil was nearly a compliment. “Yes, thank you,” he moved his ram a bit further from Thranduil's elk, pretending to be getting a better look at their assembled ranks. 

They had decided to blend their armies, the elves with the best swordsmanship were placed with the anvil soldiers, and the less experienced with the hammer soldiers. The archers were staggered, a row of dwarven archers just before a row of elven archers between the anvils and hammers, the best of the archers from both sides lining the wall above the gates. The best archers could hit the orcs before they even reached the front lines, a tactic they hoped would thin the oncoming army before the orcs would crash into them. 

The second army would be headed off by Bard, and they hopefully wouldn't see him coming.

A shiver ran through the ranks as Beorn walked forward, easily towering over dwarves and elves alike. The soldiers parted hastily to make room as he made his way to the front to stand beside Thorin. His animal-like presence still unnerved the dwarven king, and Thorin was just happy Beorn was on their side. 

“Azog the defiler will pay for his crimes. Ready yourselves. It is beginning,” Beorn declared in his slow, deep voice. He stepped out before the army a few paces, taking a hunched stance. A tremor ran through him, and then he shifted smoothly into the form of a great bear before their very eyes.

Thorin and Dwalin were stunned as they watched from their mounts. How had the orcs managed to capture and control such creatures? There was not time to contemplate it, for their enemy was upon them, the great pale orc leading from astride his white warg. 

There were no declarations. No requests for surrender, before the orc army charged. The front lines began dropping as the archers posted on the wall loosed their arrows into the oncoming force. 

Dis watched her youngest with pride, following his arrows as they flew.   
He never missed.   
Every arrow met its target, orcs and wargs dropping mid stride as they approached the front lines. Tauriel complimented him, her arrows flying seconds after his, dealing the killing blow to the orcs he wounded, or striking down those near.

Dis glanced down at Bilbo. The hobbit had eyes for no one but the king. She placed a reassuring hand on Bilbo's shoulder and raised her gaze to her brother, who was readying the charge. Even from that distance, they could hear his cry rise up over the troops.   
“Baruk Khazad!”  
The armies responded with a deafening “Khazad ai-menu!”

It had begun. The orcs met the dwarves and elves with a harsh clash of swords and screams of the dying and injured. Bilbo's face hid none of his fear as he watched Thorin lunge into the fray on his mount. He remembered to breath when he felt Dis's hand squeeze his shoulder gently, grounding him a bit.   
He needed to stay calm. He needed to stay calm for Thorin. 

Thorin roared as he beheaded another orc, letting the adrenaline take him. He didn't miss a beat when his mount was taken down. He dropped and rolled to his feet, slicing through another two enemies, Dwalin's roars as he swung his ax a constant at his side.

The newly appointed General had been forced from his ram long ago, but he was happy to fight on his own two feet, taking out one enemy after another with his unparalleled strength. Thorin lunged at the nearest orc, Dwalin spinning to block his flank without hesitation. The two had trained together all their lives, and as such, they moved together in battle effortlessly, the scribe falling in seamlessly as Dwalin's counterpoint. Thorin was more than grateful for the addition when he saw Ori block a spear that would have impaled Dwalin's chest, the little scribe shouting with fury. Dwalin's determined gaze met Thorin's and he gave his brother in arms a nod as they threw themselves back into the fray.

The sound of an orc horn paused some of the fighting, many of the soldiers turning their gaze to the south. The second army had arrived, and with it a fresh war cry of overly confident orcs. The second army advanced until it was at the crest of the hill where Bard and his armies waited. The men ran out to meet them on horseback, and the orcs faltered. Confusion erupted as Bard's men attacked, keeping the second army from joining their fellows before the mountain.

The battle blazed anew, frustration and bolstered courage rekindling determination like an angry forge. 

“Dwalin!” Thorin roared over the fray, twisting to block another swing from the hideous orc he had been fighting.

“What?!” Dwalin yelled back, obviously wondering what in Mahal's name Thorin could possibly be wanting to talk about NOW of all times.

“Have you seen Golorin?” Thorin asked as he pulled his sword from the orc's chest and approached Dwalin and Ori. The dwarves surrounding them immediately gave them cover, blocking the enemy from reaching them so they could confer without being slaughtered.

“No, I haven't seen any of those bastards,” Dwalin answered.

Thorin frowned, turning to rejoin the battle with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

What if the battle they were fighting were just a strategic diversion? He began searching as best he could as he fought, trying to catch a glimpse of the devils.

“There!” Ori's voice shouted from Thorin's left, before the scribe took off across the battle field, Dwalin right behind him.

“Dwalin!” The General looked up at the tone of Thorin's voice. He followed his king's gaze toward the mountain just in time to see two dwarves disappear into what must have been the entrance to their series of secret tunnels. 

“Shit,” Dwalin cursed as a group of orcs followed Golorin and Bolorin into the mountain, their leader enormous and full of metal.

“They're going after Bilbo,” Thorin spat as they tried to dodge and weave across the battlefield. “We have finalized our bond. If they get to him, I'll die too,” Thorin shouted as he spun to avoid a well aimed blow from an orc spear.

“Ori as well,” Dwalin said angrily, landing a killing blow on the orc who had tried to run the king through. His gaze shot up to the scribe who had already made it to the mountainside, having used his smaller stature to his advantage.

“You've completed the bond?” Thorin asked, slightly surprised.

“Now's really not the time, Your Highness!” Dwalin shouted in agitation. 

Thorin grinned despite the horror surrounding them, then his face grew determined as they finally caught up to Ori.

“How do we get in?” Dwalin asked as he searched the area on the rock face where he thought the traitors had entered.

Thorin furrowed his brow in agitation as Ori shoved them back hurriedly.   
“Move,” Ori commanded, “let me take a look.” He turned back to the seemingly bare wall and ran a hand over it carefully. 

Thorin waited impatiently, nearly coming apart under the pressure and anxiety.

“There must be a password,” Ori finally declared. 

“Password?” Dwalin shouted. “How in Mahal's name are we supposed to know what that blasted-”

“Golorin Uzbad undu 'Urd,” Thorin said firmly, and the solid rock before them shifted to reveal a small passage, large enough for two to walk abreast. Without another word, he and Dwalin ducked into the tunnel and started running, Ori already far in the lead.

* * * * *

“Where is Thorin going?” Bilbo was panicking, a sense of terror that was not his own coursing through him like a river of dread. 

“Dwalin and Ori were with him. I saw them disappear down there,” Fili pointed to a recess in the rock on the far side of the mountain.

“They must've found the entrance to the tunnels. But why would they leave the battlefield in favor of searching tunnels?” Bilbo asked incredulously, as the sound of swords being drawn registered to his ears. He spun around to find Fili and Dis already armed against a grinning Golorin and Bolorin.

“Careful, Princess, I'd hate for you to hurt yourself,” Golorin chuckled. 

Dis's eyes narrowed. “Try me,” she spat, venom in her voice. 

“I'd hate to have to kill you. Best you just surrender, so I don't have to mar that pretty face.”

Dis gave no warning. She simply lunged, sword swinging at an alarming rate as he met her blow for blow, his face showing his growing concern.   
Clearly he had underestimated the dam.

Fili worried for just a moment, but Dis's sure skill calmed him, and he felt quite confident she could hold her own just fine. He turned to Bolorin, who had been attempting to get around the prince and closer to the hobbit. 

“Don't you take one more step Bolorin, I will gut you right here,” Fili declared. 

Bolorin saved on the monologue, and simply threw himself into battling the prince, hoping to claim his prize in the end. 

Bilbo stood in shock as he watched his new family fight the two cruelest beings he had ever known. So much had been taken from him by these dwarves, regardless of the fact he had ended up in a much better situation for it. He had found his soul mate and made himself a home, and a family who loved him. And now these two dwarves had come to take that from him again. 

Bilbo had had just about enough. He drew his sword as Nori came running onto the balcony. On instinct, the spy jumped between Dis and Golorin, the dam giving him an annoyed look.

“Orc,” Nori shot over his shoulder at her, “big one. Heading this way. He brought friends”

Dis turned her attention to the mountain just as the gruesome creature walked out of the shadows. He was tall, even for an orc, and had more metal in him than the mountain. His head seemed held together by scraps of metal and bolts, and he had sharp plates protruding from his ribs. He gave Dis a wicked grin, and closed the distance between them swiftly. Dis raised her sword, ready to defend herself, but Fili was faster. He abandoned his fight with Bolorin, running to his mother's aid and began dueling with the orc himself. 

Dis watched her son with growing terror, before she threw herself into the fight just as the orcs fellows joined him. 

“Dis!” Nori bellowed as Dis and Fili were quickly outnumbered by half a dozen orcs. Nori sidestepped, engaging two of the orcs while he continued battling with Golorin. He could not keep this up for long, but he would not give up Dis and Fili.

Bilbo quickly turned his attention to Bolorin. With the prince out of his way, the dwarf was determined to get to Bilbo. The hobbit's hands shook a bit as he held out his sword in warning. 

Bolorin laughed. “Simple halfling. Do you think I hold any fear of you?” he chuckled cruelly. “I have not forgotten the broken crying coward you truly are. Worth nothing more than the excitement of a slow kill, or to warm somebodies bed.” Bolorin gave Bilbo a suggestive glance, and the hobbit's lip curled in disgust. “Do you remember the last time you tried to escape me?”

Bilbo glowered at the dwarf. “I am not afraid of you.” Bilbo's voice quavered a bit as he noticed Golorin shifting away from Nori and over to Bolorin's side. Nori could not stop him, the orcs were overpowering Dis and Fili, and Nori couldn't let them fall. 

“Oh, but I think you are. Just like you were when we first met. How you whimpered and cried when I struck you, and flinched whenever I came near. A fresh set of clothes and a romp in the king's bed can't change that. You are afraid of me. I have conditioned you to be. Like a good little slave.”

Bilbo's shaking intensified. He nearly dropped his sword as his eyes blurred with tears. He caught his blade and held it close, squeezing his eyes shut against the memories assaulting him. 

“Such softness. You are weak. Golorin will be king, and I will take you to be my slave. Thorin has no idea the uses you could be put to.”

“You won't come near him,” Ori's voice warned dangerously as he stepped in front of his friend.  
“What are you going to do about it, scribe?” Golorin chuckled.   
Ori swung Dwalin's ax at the other dwarf, and Bolorin barely managed to block it, being caught off guard as he was. He scowled at the smaller dwarf, and he and Golorin readied themselves to fight.

* * * * *

“They've gotten to them,” Thorin said frantically as he and Dwalin ran through the mountain.

“I know. Ori is absolutely pissed. They haven't hurt Bilbo, have they?”

“No. No he's not hurt, but he's......” Thorin gasped a bit and clenched his eyes against the emotions that were nearly consuming him. Panic, fear, and embarrassment assaulted him from the bond, mixing poorly with the fury and battle lust he was already feeling himself. 

“Thorin?” Dwalin's voice was grounding in this moment, and the king held on to it, trying to keep from losing himself.

“I hear them, let's go,” Thorin grumbled, bursting into a sprint as they came around a corner. 

The sight that greeted Thorin and Dwalin was more than they had expected. Nori, Dis and Fili fighting a group of orcs, including the largest and most horrible looking orc they had ever seen, and a determined Ori was defending Bilbo against Bolorin and Golorin at the end of the balcony. Bilbo was standing behind the scribe, staring at his sword as though he were in a trance. 

“Bilbo!” Thorin yelled, jolting the hobbit to awareness.

“Thorin?” Bilbo mumbled, not entirely over his panic. He looked up just in time to see Thorin throw himself between Bolorin and Ori, bellowing in fury. The king took up the fight, advancing quickly on the brothers in his rage. 

“Ori!” Dwalin's panic pulled the scribe to his aid, and he joined in the battle against the orcs, helping them gain the upper hand.

Bilbo shook himself, feeling rage slowly simmer over his fear until it began to consume him. Whether it was Thorin's or his own, he could not be sure, but it moved through him like fire as he watched his former tormentor battle his One. 

Bolorin staggered back from Thorin a few steps and threw Bilbo a disgusted look.   
“There halfling, hide behind your lover like the coward you are!” he yelled before he blocked another powerful blow from Thorin's sword. “You are nothing without your mockery of a king!”   
Bolorin managed to throw Thorin off as the king was blinded by his own rage. Golorin swung and Bolorin countered Thorin's block, the blow knocking Thorin's sword from his hand. The brothers took Thorin to the ground, Bolorin dropped his weapon and pinned the king's hands while Golorin raised his sword to Thorin's throat with a triumphant grin.  
“And you,” Golorin spat at Thorin, “risking your neck for that sorry creature. Bonding with it, a lesser being, unworthy of the title of consort! You disgust me.”

Bilbo frowned as he took in the scene before him. Thorin was too far away for him to do much more than watch. He looked from the pair to his sword, weighing his options. Thorin could not die. Bilbo had to do something. He threw caution to the wind, lifting his sword over his head and flung his arms forward, releasing the blade through the air. 

Golorin was all that Thorin could see, his angry face filling Thorin's vision, the blade at his neck nearly welcome at this point. At least he and Bilbo would die together. Maybe Mahal would allow a hobbit in his halls so the two of them could spend the afterlife together. 

Thorin exhaled, accepting the inevitable. He closed his eyes and waited for the cold bite of steel on his flesh. He frowned when it did not come, and he opened his eyes. Golorin's face was screwed up in pain and shock, Bilbo's blade protruding from his chest as blood began to pour down his stomach, his armor no match for the elvish weapon.

Bolorin released his grip on Thorin's wrists and scrambled to take up his weapon. Thorin was faster. He quickly rose and grabbed his sword, then just as Bolorin lunged for him, he spun around with sword aloft, his blade meeting its mark and slicing through Bolorin's neck.

Thorin looked to his family. He was relieved to find that with the help of Ori and Dwalin, they had managed to bring the orcs down.

Finally Thorin's eyes found Bilbo's. The hobbit seemed just as surprised as Thorin was, and he met his One's gaze with awe and more love than he thought was possibly. 

Bilbo was overwhelmed. His own emotions of shock and disbelief mingling with Thorin's astounded awe and relief, and never had he been more sure of the dwarf's feelings.   
Thorin was beside himself, grateful and amazed with his hobbit.   
They were safe.

* * * * *

The skin changer leapt over the line of dwarven soldiers and immediately ripped three orcs in half with impossibly massive claws, then his black eyes raked over the surrounding army. He growled angrily when he spotted the pale orc, tangled in battle with Thranduil. The elf was giving the orc a fair bit of trouble, spinning and slashing with deadly accuracy, but Thranduil backed down instantly when Beorn walked out between them. 

Azog sneered at the shape-shifter, but Beorn could easily see that the orc was nervous, behind his confident stance. 

As he should be. 

Beorn jumped at the pale orc without hesitation, and Azog barely managed to maneuver out of his reach. He turned, bladed arm outstretched to catch the bear off guard, but Beorn was faster and managed to slap the orc with his great paw. Azog scrambled to get to his feet, but Beorn was already on him, pinning him to the stone ground easily with his massive weight. The shape shifter morphed back to his human form, holding the orc down. His eyes didn't leave Azog's as he extended a hand to Thranduil. The elf king silently offered his own sword, allowing the skin changer to take it into his own hands. 

Beorn narrowed his unsettling golden eyes at the orc beneath him and without a word he drove the borrowed sword into Azog's heart. Soulless blue eyes stared up at him angrily for a moment, before all life left the pale orc, his final breath releasing heavily as his eyes went blank. 

Beorn stood slowly and turned to face the elven king.  
“I thank you, King Thranduil. Azog's reign has ended, and now I must free my people.”  
Beorn handed Thranduil his blade, then he resumed his bear form and ran off quickly, swiping out any remaining orc within his reach as he set off to free his kin. 

The orc army was quickly overrun, those who were not killed scattered and deserted when they saw their leader had fallen. The battle had been won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Look! I finally finished this chapter!  
> Thank you for being so patient, I'm sorry this has taken so long. Between work and having to cross the country for the untimely death of a family friend, life took my free time from me. I hate it when I don't get to create, writing is my therapy. 
> 
> There will be one more chapter, yes, I'm sure, only one. It is so bittersweet coming to the end of this.
> 
> Please tell me what you think! I always love your feedback. Thank you for following along on this crazy adventure!


	31. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping things up here, it's been quite a journey, and I appreciate all of you for taking it with me! Without further ado, the final chapter!

Beorn ran on all fours at a steady pace, his footfalls marked and heavy as the wind tore through his fur. He ran back to his home, to peace, his family with him, and he couldn't have felt more free and glad he would not have to return to his cottage alone after all this time. Beorn took in the familiar surroundings, able to enjoy it at last. The moon shone silver on the leaves of trees as they danced and flickered in the wind. Insects chirped smartly as the skin changers passed and somewhere in the trees an owl hooted as if in greeting. Beorn slowed down and closed his eyes for a moment, drinking it all in. When he opened them again, it was to the face of his brother, who shot him a grin, then bolted off. Beorn missed these games of competition. He ran after his brother, weaving between the others and knowing, though they had lost many, they had earned their freedom again.

* * * * *

It had been nearly a year since the battle, the wounds of war had healed. The dead had been given back to the stone and earth and things were finally beginning to feel normal again. The mountain teemed with life, the heavy cloud of uncertainty and division cleared from the halls of Erebor, to be replaced by peace and relief. And no short amount of celebration. 

A few months earlier, Thorin and Bilbo had wed. The ceremony had been simple, as far as royal dwarven weddings go, and the Great Hall had been filled with laughter and music after. Bombur and the culinary guild had prepared a most generous feast, and dwarves, men, and elves alike ate, drank, and danced until dawn. Thorin had insisted on embracing some of Bilbo's culture in their celebration, and so he and Bilbo both had flowers woven in their hair. The king was thrilled to see his consort so at ease and full of smiles as he twirled and laughed with every dwarf who requested to dance. It was quite humorous when the lovely elf maiden Tauriel took the hobbit's hands and they took a few turns together, even more different in height than she and Kili.

The following months had seen no shortage of celebration, as Ori and Dwalin also married, and Bombur and Kari were planning their own ceremony. 

Thorin should have felt nothing but hope and appreciation for all that had been accomplished, for the love he and his friends had found, and for the prosperity beginning to spread throughout the kingdom. But the only thing the king could focus on at present was the overwhelming feeling of regret.

Thorin sighed as he stacked the paperwork on his desk. Ori had delivered the reports hours ago, and Thorin should have finished reviewing and signing off on them long before, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Images of his grandfather on his deathbed haunted him, refusing to release the grip of anger and sorrow plaguing him. 

“Thorin?” a familiar voice called from the door. The king closed his eyes and felt some of his tension release as Bilbo's hands slid soothingly up his arms. He tilted his head and leaned into Bilbo's embrace as the hobbit pushed up onto his toes and pressed his lips to Thorin's temple. 

“You seem troubled, My King,” Bilbo said softly. 

“I've been thinking about Thror. My grandfather is not at fault for his madness. I hope he knows I forgive him, and I'm sorry I judged him so harshly,” Thorin's voice was laced with regret, and Bilbo could hardly bear Thorin's pain of having to leave so many things unsaid.

“Come. Let's sit by the fire and talk,” Bilbo took Thorin's hand and led him to his chair, then took his own. “Thror knows, My Love. He knows you forgive him.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Thorin asked, his emotions making him sound impatient. 

“Because, Thorin, you are his grandson. You love him, and he you.”

Thorin blinked rapidly at the sting of tears in his eyes and the two sat quietly for a few moments. Bilbo did his best to remain neutral, keeping his own emotions from holding Thorin back from processing his own. There was a shift in Thorin's thoughts, and Bilbo shot him a questioning glance.

“It's just that, I now know what it feels like, to be taken by madness. An untended bond is... agony. Torture. If that dam had made it to the mountain all those years ago, maybe none of this would have happened,” Thorin mused.   
Then he pinched his eyes shut and shook his head regretfully. “Not that I would ever wish you hadn't come to me. I only mean that-”

“I know, I know. It's alright,” Bilbo reassured him.

“I just wish I knew what happened to that poor dam,” Thorin finished.

Bilbo took a measured breath, readying himself for this conversation. Thorin could feel his apprehension, and it made the dwarf uneasy.

“I hope you don't mind,” Bilbo began, “but Ori and I have been doing a little digging.”

“Digging?”

“Yes. We did manage to find some reports that bring a bit more light on the subject.”

Thorin held his breath as he waited to hear what the reports had revealed. 

“The dam was found, Thorin. She... she had been murdered. We managed to find some of Thror's earlier council members, including Balin, and together, they were able to put the story together.”   
Bilbo clenched his hands in his lap, taking a moment to collect himself before he continued.  
“Thror was certain the dam's husband was responsible for her death. He went to the Iron Hills himself to drag the husband back here and put him on trial, but Dain would not release him. He had already taken the suspect prisoner, and said that because he was his subject, he had to be tried there. Ultimately, Dain sentenced the husband to death, but Thror never forgave the slight.”

“That would explain why they stopped talking. I had assumed it was because of Grandfather's madness. I guess I hadn't considered there could be other reasons.”

“There's more.” Bilbo took another deep breath. “One of your grandfather's advisors, a very old dwarf named Nar, said the two of them had been very close friends until... everything happened... he said that it wasn't the dam's husband who killed her.”

Thorin frowned. “Orcs? Bandits?”

“No. He said it was Golorin.”

“Golorin,” Thorin's voice became dark an ominous, the dwarf's name tasting foul on his tongue.

“Those closest to Thror could see what was happening. They knew he had found his One and for some reason was unable to bond with them. Golorin tried to convince Nar to help him find out who Thror's One was, so they could keep them from bonding and take over the kingdom once Thror succumbed to his death. 

Nar wouldn't have it. He had no intention of taking the kingdom from his friend, and so Golorin convinced Thror that Nar had devised these plans. Thror imprisoned Nar, and Golorin got that much closer to the king.”

Thorin scrubbed his hands over his face. “I remember Nar. I was shocked when grandfather had him imprisoned. I knew he couldn't hold him there forever. He let Nar out after a few years, but I never would have guessed this was the reason.”   
He shook his head and turned his gaze back to Bilbo.   
“Does he know for sure it was Golorin who killed the dam?”

Bilbo shrugged. “He couldn't say with absolute certainty, but it all seems to fit.”

There was silence again, but for the crackle of the fire in the hearth, until finally Thorin cleared his throat.   
“Thank you, Bilbo. Thank you for looking into this for me. It doesn't really change anything, but I do feel better knowing that, whoever is responsible for my grandfather's death, they are no longer among the living.” 

Bilbo gave the king a sad smile. “You're welcome. I hope it helps bring you peace.”

“In time I believe it will.”  
Thorin stood from his chair, rubbing his hands over his face.   
“Bilbo, would you-”

“Go on,” Bilbo said calmly, feeling Thorin's restlessness. “Go get some fresh air. I'll be here when you're ready.”

Thorin smiled fondly at his hobbit and leaned down to kiss him soundly on the cheek.  
“I thank Mahal you have come to me. I wouldn't have survived this without you here.”

“Silly dwarf,” Bilbo chuckled lightly. “I would not have survived any better without you.”

* * * * *

Thorin stood on the wall, overlooking the surrounding lands and taking a moment to let the crisp air clear his head. It would not be long before the wind would bite, frigid and unmerciful. Winter was coming, as the nip in the air suggested. The king sighed to himself, leaning to rest his elbows on the rail. 

“Lovely evening,” Captain Gilda's voice was soft, as though she worried she may startle the king.

“Yes it is Captain,” Thorin answered as he straightened and turned to look at the old dam. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Gilda smiled. “I have come to make a request.”

Thorin nodded for the captain to continue.

“I wish to offer the positions of lieutenant to Kili and Tauriel. They more than proved their skill in the battle last spring, and since then have shown their worth ten times over, and their willingness to put kin and kingdom over themselves.”

Thorin nodded and turned back to face the countryside. “Kili would make a fine lieutenant. And you would be hard pressed to find a keener eye than Tauriel's. Don't tell him I said it, but Kili's skill is shadowed only by his wife.” He smiled warmly as he thought of them, then added, “You may have to give Tauriel some time. It has not been declared officially, but the elf is with child.”

Gilda smiled at the news. A babe was a rare blessing to dwarves. “How very wonderful for them. Perhaps the wee one will inherit skills from its parents.”

Thorin nodded and smiled wistfully. “Perhaps. Until then, it would be an honor to see my niece and nephew in your esteemed ranks.”

The old captain smiled, then gave Thorin a shallow bow before scooting off and making preparations for formally presenting her offer to the expecting couple.

Thorin smiled to himself as he pulled out his pipe. The thought of Kili and Tauriel serving under Captain Gilda made his heart soar with such pride. He sighed contentedly, lighting his pipe and taking a long draw before a shuffling startled him from his musings.   
“Nori,” Thorin grumbled in greeting, letting the smoke furl carelessly from his lips.

The reformed thief came to Thorin's side, resting his hands on the rail and taking a deep inhale of the fresh breeze. Thorin glanced at the star haired dwarf, watching the silver courting bead catch the light as the breath of the wind played with the tendrils of Nori's hair, pulling it from its usually pristine arrangement.

“What do you want,” Thorin asked with an exasperated sigh.

“I'm sure you could guess,” Nori answered with a sly grin.

“I would rather you just tell me,” Thorin said dryly. 

“Alright,” Nori sighed, glancing down as he gathered his thoughts, before he turned to face Thorin and dropped to one knee. “King Thorin, I have come to ask your permission to propose to your sister.” Nori pulled a bead from his pocket, presenting it silently to the king.

Thorin overcame his momentary shock at Nori's sincerity and took the bead from his spy, looking it over carefully. He exhaled sharply, laying it back in Nori's hands.   
“You know I would never try to keep my sister from that which she wants. You may ask her. If Dis accepts your proposal, then you have my blessing.”

Nori tucked the bead back in his pocket and rose, smiling widely at Thorin.   
“I know my reputation is not the best, and I have committed crimes against the crown in the past, but you know I will take great care of your sister.”

Thorin nodded. “I know you will. And if you don't, I will kill you myself.”

Nori's smile widened. “I would expect no less.”   
He took a couple steps towards the stairs, then looked back at the king.   
“You're a great king, Thorin. You have done well, and your father would be proud of you.”

Thorin turned and gave Nori a grateful smile. The thief-turned-spy grinned in return, and retreated back into the mountain. 

It was late when Thorin finally returned to his chambers, and Bilbo was nestled in his chair with a book open in his lap. “I'm surprised to find you still awake, my dear hobbit.”

Bilbo grinned and shut his book. “I was waiting for my husband to return. He has left me waiting an awfully long time.” He placed his book on the table and got up from his chair.

“Is that so?” Thorin asked with a quirk of a grin. “That was quite insensitive of him, making you wait like that.” He opened his arms and let Bilbo fall into them, feeling the waves of contentment wash over him and pull him in. 

Bilbo hummed with approval, squeezing his arms just a little tighter around Thorin's waist. “Come to bed?”

Thorin smiled warmly. “Yes. Let's go to bed.” He followed the hobbit across the room and stripped down to his underthings. He threw himself onto the mattress and pulled the blanket over him as Bilbo curled tightly into his side. 

There was still so much to be done, but Thorin was alright with that. For now, he would bask in the knowledge that he had found his One, and his kingdom was on the mend. Those were the best gifts he could ever have been given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride! I hope you loved it, I know the last several chapters took forever. I appreciate all the kudos and comments more than I can say!  
> This was by far the most difficult and time consuming project I've attempted, and I hope I did alright. It wasn't always easy to stay focused, and my series kept tugging at me as I tried to work on this piece. I know I lost some momentum, but I am grateful to anyone who is still reading this.  
> Love to you all! Let me know what you think!


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